Dead Man Walking
by Punster-Zero
Summary: Xander comes to a realisation after dealing with the zombies – just because he is powerless does not make him useless. See how his life changes with this epiphany.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer :  
**I do not own BtVS, nor any of its characters – though any OCs are definitely mine.

**Summary :  
**Xander comes to a realisation after dealing with the zombies – just because he was powerless does not make him useless. See how his life changes with this epiphany.

**Spoilers :  
**Up to the episode where Xander takes care of O'Toole and his gang, as well as all of the rest of Buffy (I hope).

**Author's Note :  
**The rating is for sexual references, harsh language and violence that occurs. If the thought of any of these offends, you should stop reading now.

**xXx**

**Dead Man Walking**

**xXx**

Unable to sleep long from the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Xander went to the mirror on his wall and stared at his reflection as he pondered the events of the night before.

As per usual, after classes had ended and the patrolling soon to begin, Buffy and the rest of the gang had gently but inexorably pushed him to one side, telling him to run along. Their reasons, he knew, were not that varied. They wanted him to be 'fray adjacent', to keep him safe, to keep him alive. Even Willow seemed to see him as a handicap to their work. And all she could do was float pencils. In no time at all, he found himself pushed out, sent home like a misbehaving child.

Alone. On the streets. Of _Sunnydale_.

Riiight.

So, not only had he eventually found himself mixed up with a group of braindead zombies planning to blow up the school, he had run into the other Slayer (or at least run over the demon she was fighting) and ended up doing some rather naughty things with her in her hotel room. True, he'd managed to stop it before they went all the way… but only by using his fingers and mouth for practices he'd never known existed.

Afterwards she'd thrown him out into the street with his clothes in his arms, acting like it had meant nothing, but it wasn't a total loss. He'd seen the blush on her cheeks as she glanced at his lips. He hadn't known what he was doing, but apparently it was something right. Certainly considering the sounds she had been making.

Staggering round in a daze, still slightly stunned by what had just happened, he'd noticed a car full of zombies drive by, heading for the school.

Getting there had been an unpleasant shock. Not the killer zombies or the bomb in the basement, those he could handle. It was discovering that the Hellmouth was trying to open and swallow the world. Again. Knowing they hadn't wanted him there for what might have been the final battle hurt him more than he had ever guessed.

Other than that, the evening went swimmingly.

He'd killed the zombies, defused the bomb, and scared off the badass O'Toole.

Then he'd gone home and went to bed. After cleaning off the few bits of zombie that still stuck to his clothes of course. Definitely the worst thing about the creatures was that they tended to fall apart whenever you brushed against them.

Not a pleasant experience.

Waking up sore from his trials yet energised from his victories, the faintest hint of dawn on the horizon, he felt an epiphany strike. He was normal. No powers, no special skills, no magical abilities. He couldn't even fight very well. Yet he had saved the school, and potentially the whole world, when he had stopped the bomb. Being special helped, but it wasn't required.

Being a normal human being didn't mean that he couldn't fight the good fight. It just meant he had to be sneaky about it.

Decision made, Xander went to the battered table he used as a desk and began to plan his next move.

**xXx**

Grimacing as his neck creaked as he leaned back in his chair, Xander glanced down at the rough list of things he'd figured he needed. Some were obvious – weapons, holy water, stakes and the like – and would be quite simple to gain. Others were more… problematic.

Like training.

Just because he was a guy, a teenage guy at that, did not mean he was stupid. If he was going to be doing this as a fulltime gig, working on slimming down the numbers of dangerous demons and vampires that prowled the Hellmouth, he would need to know how to fight. And for once, he knew he couldn't turn to Giles for help.

Not because the man wouldn't give it, but because he would be sure to let something slip about Xander's wish to the Scoobies which would quickly bring hurricane Buffy down on Xander's delicate head.

So he needed someone willing to train him how to fight, how to kill. But outside normal channels. The only answer he'd been able to come up with, skimpy as it was, was to see if any of the soldiers at the local base might be willing to pass on a few tricks to an eager student.

But he didn't hold out much hope.

Glancing at the clock, he grimaced seeing that he'd already missed first bell, and grabbed his bag and shoes and rushed off to get ready for class.

It felt like the heart of irony that after saving the world, he had to learn about… geometry. The thought giving him chills that not even master vampires had instilled in him, he trudged out of his room and began the long trek to school.

**xXx**

School had been even worse than he had feared. Not only did the classes try to drown him in useless information, but his obviously injured friends tried to brush off 'whatever' happened the night before as nothing special. As in something he shouldn't have to worry about.

Then there was, of course, Cordelia.

He knew he had hurt her, more than she would ever say, but he had an inkling as to why. Much as Xander cared for the prickly and snooty girl, he knew that he didn't truly love her. That the two of them had chemistry, he had no doubt. But it was a simple case of opposites attracting. The spark between them was purely physical, if they had tried to move too far beyond where their relationship had reached, they would both have been disappointed.

So though in the short term he had hurt her dearly, something that she was using to cause no end of humiliation, he knew in time she would be able to find a man truly matched for her.

But for now her pain was fresh in her heart, and she needed to give him his share whenever possible. Meaning today was… pleasant.

But for once the words of ridicule and rage spewing from her mouth did not cause him to shrivel up and blow away, metaphorically speaking. Instead, with the confidence his personal victory had given him, he was able to walk away from her with a smile and a nod. Both she, her posse of ignorant blondes, and his friends had been shocked at his behaviour.

He was just pleased that he hadn't tripped over his loose shoelaces as he left. It would have ruined the effect.

The problem now, was figuring out how to keep the good feeling from fading, as the patrols continually left without him, and he was shunted to the sidelines. The best he could come up with was to start the attempt to find a teacher to help him on his long road of physical maturity.

**xXx**

It had been depressingly easy to separate from the Scoobies, as the mere mention of him leaving made them all happy. It had not escaped his notice that they allowed Cordelia to stay, when she was even weaker than he.

After a quick trip home to load up on a few stakes and other weapons, he put on one of his more obnoxious shirts, and left the house heading for a bar he'd heard the local jarheads liked to frequent.

He didn't have a clue how he'd be able to convince one of them to give him the help he needed, but he was willing to try almost anything.

**xXx**

The bar was smoky and stank of stale beer, but Xander wasn't going anywhere. Though the barman had been initially unwilling to have a minor in his bar, with some fast talking Xander had somehow managed to persuade him that letting Xander stick around wouldn't be a problem. He just wished he knew exactly what he'd done, 'cause whatever it was could've come in very handy when dealing with the troll, Snyder.

The upshot was him sitting on a barstool drawing curious looks from a number of grunts at his… unique dress sense, trying not to breathe much. Or at all. The smells were starting to make him nauseous. Luckily – or not – his attention was diverted by the newest person to enter the bar.

Though person might have been a stretch, considering it was a dead man walking.

Sighing quietly to himself, Xander got up and began to artfully stagger across the room, heading for the back door. Not enough to look overdone, just enough to attract the attention of a predator. He could almost feel the moment the vampire's eyes locked onto his back. Knowing his target would even now be approaching him, he speeded up imperceptibly to gain the cover of the alley before anyone noticed what was happening.

Neither man, vampire or Scooby, noticed the two soldiers who had also taken notice of the monster in their midst, and were even then rising to their feet and smoothly gliding across the room to join them in the shadows of the back alley.

**xXx**

Sergeant Mackenzie Bryce cursed under his breath as the vampire disappeared out the door. Their chances of getting to the kid in time were getting slight to none. It wasn't right, some stupid boy – probably on a bet from his equally stupid friends – had shown up just in time to catch the interest of a passing vamp, and was about to pay the price.

And there was nothing he nor Tank could do about it.

Glancing over at his silent partner, he watched the big black man glide through the crowd like a shark through water. To this day he didn't know what had happened that had brought his large friend into the darkness of the underbelly of life, but he couldn't help a twinge of guilty relief that it had.

Without Tank watching his back, Bryce had no doubt he'd have died long ago.

As it was, he knew he was running on borrowed time.

Shrugging such fatalistic thoughts aside, he pushed through the door and glanced around the dark alley he found himself in. Ignoring the large shadow at his back, he listened for any sounds of struggle, and was rewarded by a scuffling sound to his right followed by a slight gasp.

Fearing the worst, the two men stepped around the corner to join the fight.

And stopped dead at the sight before them.

The young man was reeling back, obviously from a blow where he'd had his head slammed against the wall from the blood on his temple, but it was the vampire that caught their attention.

It was also staggering back, clutching at the front of its jacket as it tried to pluck the wooden stake from its chest. But even as its fingers brushed the shaft, its body dissolved into dust, leaving an obviously injured yet alive young man glaring down at the forlorn pile of ash.

Bryce was unsure where the feeling came from, but instead of going to the youngster's aid, he moved deeper into the shadows surrounding him so he could watch the curious individuals next actions. They only caused him to become more confused.

Not seeming to care than a man had just died in such an unusual way in front of him, he'd simply spat once on the ashes before leaning against the wall. Reaching into one baggy pocket, he pulled out what looked like a mini-medkit and proceeded to clean himself up. Not enough to pass a close inspection, but more than enough to fool a casual observer.

Mac's estimation of the kid rose another few notches. Taking out a vampire was impressive, though not unheard of. Taking care that any injuries were well hidden from prying eyes was something else.

Whoever this kid was, he wasn't normal. Letting his gaze twitch to his partner, he saw the answering nod. For now they would do nothing. Nothing, but follow this interesting young man to see if they could get a grasp on what was going on.

For the first time in a long while, Mac smiled freely.

Covert ops were always so much fun.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 1**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

I know, it's short, but it's how it wrote. Mainly laying down a few basics, setting the scene as it were. I have a pretty good idea where I'm going with this, and hope you all enjoy my personal slant on things.

Due to the nature of it, this will be slightly AU from the start, and becoming more separate from canon as time progresses – I'm talking the _long_ view here.

I'm going to be trying to post a new chapter each Friday, so not too long a wait, for those who are curious.

Reviews are always nice – _really _nice – but not vital.

Ciao for now.

**Punster-Zero**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**xXx**

**Chapter 2**

**xXx**

It had taken them a little over a week to realise that the young man, by the name of Xander Harris, was a very special individual.

When Mac and Tank had first started to follow the lad, they were unsure what to expect. Maybe something gang related, or connected to one of the crime organisations that resided in Sunnydale. They were understandably blown away when they realised that the kid was not affiliated with anything nefarious. Instead, he seemed to be fighting the good fight simply because no-one else would.

Seeing that his forays into vampire staking was not a one time thing, but something he did almost nightly had caused Mac to shiver in response. He and Tank only went out two or three times a week, and they still had trouble hiding the bruises they garnered from the denizens they tangled with. This kid, not even old enough to drink, was going out every night to take on creatures that gave _them_ nightmares, and doing it all alone.

And from what they had seen, with almost no training in combat either. Which was something that had Mac steaming mad. Not because someone so young was doing something so foolish with so little skill.

But because, from what they'd seen, his friends were anything but.

The first time they had seen the small group of kids heading into one of the many graveyards that filled the town, Mac had attempted to intervene but had been brought up short by an unusually agitated Tank. Unable to speak due to their proximity to their target, he had been clueless to the reason why he had been stopped.

Until the first vampire turned up.

Seeing the five foot something blonde cheerleader blur into action and tear apart the vampire with moves that would have made black ops soldiers weep with envy, had shocked him greatly. Seeing the blasé reactions of the kids with her had caused him another wave of shock.

They were completely fine. Two were even cuddling and acting like normal hormonal teenagers while a battle to the death occurred mere feet away. Shocked and, on some primitive level, terrified, Mac had turned to Tank and had been stunned anew.

Tank was one of the most scary people he had ever met. Not because he was overtly hostile, or because he liked to hurt people, but simply because he gave off an aura of restrained violence. A violence that he unleashed in elemental fury whenever they were engaging the creatures that roamed the night.

So seeing this dangerous and powerful man pale and shaking, scared shitless at the sight before them had Mac's own fear escalating. Deciding that they had enough for one night, the two had crept off into the shadows even as the blonde ended her enemy's existence.

Later, in a corner of the bar, Bryce had managed to pry a little information out of his taciturn partner. And what he learned shocked him to his core. That little girl, that mere slip of a thing, was the entity known as the Slayer. A being feared by all and sundry within the darkness, a creature that hid a stake of wood in a velvet glove. One that hid within the unassuming body of a helpless girl.

Needing time to absorb the new shake up to his world view, Mac had headed home to sleep on it. It wasn't until very late that he suddenly wondered how his large friend knew so much about her.

Though he never brought it up, from then on Bryce kept a careful eye on his partner. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark.

All of which had brought them to now, following a young man into a cemetery in the dead of night to hunt for bloodsucking fiends. They had discussed their plans earlier and had come to a realisation.

It was time for them to meet Xander Harris.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you both right now."

Turning quickly, Mac was shocked to find Xander Harris standing behind them with a crossbow aimed at his heart.

**xXx**

Though it had taken him a while to notice he was being followed, once the knowledge had arrived Xander had begun carefully mapping the antics of his two shadows. And what impressed him was how good they were.

They were careful never to enter his eye-line, blending into the darkness whenever his gaze did fall upon them. They never attacked him, but they were there during every fight and scuffle he got into. Several times he had almost died because they had distracted him at a crucial moment.

The last time it had happened he decided enough was enough.

So waiting until they were behind him once more, he led them towards a cemetery that he knew Buffy had cleared the night before. It had been hard, very hard, to act the fool when around his friends and former team-mates so he could see their patrol details. The last thing he wanted to do was overlap one of his prowls with a Slayer's patrol. If they were to catch wind of what he was doing…

He shuddered at the thought.

For now though, he knew the two would hang back until he had entered the danger zone proper before following. For reasons that eluded him, Xander had realised that vampires never attacked people just entering a graveyard, they always waited until they were further into the gravestones. Personally, Xander though it would be just as practical to hide in the bushes at the entrance and jump people the moment the got close.

Luckily, vampires were never accused of being intelligent.

So after entering he immediately ducked to the side and darted through the hedge. Stealthily making his way around, he was heartened to see they hadn't moved, were still waiting on him, on his supposed position. Taking a deep cleansing breath, he let it out silently before he raised his crossbow and stepped up behind them.

**xXx**

Mac was shocked.

Not even _vampires_ were able to sneak up on him or Tank. Whoever this kid was, he had some truly unique abilities. But now was not the time for such things. Now was time for introductions.

"I'm Sergeant Mackenzie Bryce, you can call me Mac. This is my friend Tank. Mr Harris, it's good to finally speak with you."

Seeing the slight intake of breath at his name, Mac saw the posture tighten and the knuckles clench around the stock of the crossbow. Tensing, he prepared to dive to the side. Not that it would do much good at this range, but he could hope. Luckily for him, death wasn't in his cards tonight.

"Firstly, call me Xander. Mr Harris is my father, and I'd prefer it if you don't remind me I'm related to the drunken bastard. Secondly, why don't you explain to me exactly why you and your _friend_," inclining his head at the ever silent behemoth standing at his side, "have been tracking me. For certain reasons, I don't like being followed. Especially in graveyards at night."

"We've been following you because we saw you dust a vampire. We wanted to understand why a high-school kid would know so much about so dangerous a subject." When Mac and Tank had been discussing how to explain to young Xander their reasoning, they had decided that honesty was the best policy. "We were surprised to find that not only do you know about vampires, but that you hunt them every night.

"From the little we've been able to witness, you've had almost no training in physical combat, which is startling considering you're friends with the blonde. We… "

Whatever might have been said was cut off as the crossbow, which had dropped slightly as the young men relaxed as he listened to their explanation, instantly locked back into position. Seeing the dark look on Xander's face, Mac knew he'd crossed a line.

"Follow me. Hunt me. Fuck, I don't care if you kill me. But if you go near my friends again, I _will _put you in the ground."

The joking teenager was gone. Even the hardened youth who they had watched fight had disappeared. Before them stood a stone-cold killer. Young or no, staring into the bottomless pits that pinned him to the spot, Mac felt a sliver of fear run down his spine. There was a darkness within Xander that begged to be released, and the key was clearly threatening those close to him.

Knowing instantly that doing anything to them would be his end, that Xander would bring him down no matter what, beyond the face of his own death if need be. It harrowed Mac's soul. If there had been any curiosity as to why this kid did what he did, it was gone now.

It was for his friends.

No matter what happened, Mac knew instinctively knew that making sure that small group of people were safe took precedence over everything else. Letting the darkness inside Xander free was something that even vampires should fear to do.

Wrenching his mind back to the matter at hand, Mac hastened to show their peaceful intentions.

"I wasn't threatening them, I was simply saying that considering how good a fighter the girl is, we were surprised that you hadn't been taught anything. Knowing what lurks in the shadows, we came to the decision that we should offer our services."

An expression of confusion crossed Xander's face as he tried to puzzle out this statement. Mac was quick to simplify.

"We want to train you how to fight. We may just be humans, but we know a trick or three. With our help, I can pretty much guarantee that you will start winning your battles with ease. If you're interested, we can even give you some help on finding where to get weapons to help in the fight."

Holding up a hand to stall the interruption rising on the young man's lips, Mac added, "Not weapons like swords or bows, like what you're using there. But real weapons. Guns loaded with wooden bullets designed to take down vampires. Grenades laced with silver nitrate to take down werewolves. Flamethrowers for demons.

"We can help you train for this war, the only way we know how. The question is… are you interested?"

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 2**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

There you go, the next instalment – I hope it was worth the wait. I'm sorry if you feel it's a tad short, but that's the way it wrote.

Now you've met the teachers, next comes the training. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Can't think of much to say here, so signing off for now.

**Punster-Zero**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**Author's Note :  
**I feel I should point something out. Some of my reviewers have noted that Xander is 'useless', yet knew he was being followed by a pair of black-ops-trained specialists, which didn't make sense. To me this was because, while Xander has had no formal training, he has been fighting – and surviving – on the Hellmouth for a year and a half. That sort of track record will create certain instincts that no amount of training can give you, and noticing you're being followed would be definitely one of them.

It doesn't mean he isn't useless, just that he has a healthy streak of paranoia and is aware of any stalkers he might pick up. Not to mention that Mac and Tank would tend to be underestimating him slightly, which also didn't help.

Hope that cleared up any confusion.

**xXx**

**Chapter 3**

**xXx**

Gasping for breath, Xander staggered to a stop and let his shoulders slump, but was careful not to drop his backpack. The last time he had, his instructors had forced him to run an extra five miles. Not an experience he wanted to repeat.

It had been five weeks since that fateful encounter with his stalkers, and whenever he stopped to think about all that had happened to him, he was amazed. Constantly pushed aside by the Slayer and the group, he was only peripherally connected when the new Watcher turned up. A right little weasel of a man, Wesley Wyndam–Pryce made the old Xander look like a hunk. It had hurt when he overheard them talking of the fight between the full group and a murderous vampire sect. They hadn't asked him along, they didn't even think to tell him that there was something bad happening.

Of course, with all the extra training Mac and Tank were giving him, free time to think on such things was in short supply.

The training had begun with him having to get up far earlier than normal every morning, but after the sun had risen, to get over to the military base as soon as possible. With his skateboard it wasn't too long a trip, though he did fall off occasionally at first since it had been a few years since he'd last used it. Once there he was given a heavy backpack filled with weights and told to run laps of the fence.

In the beginning, the weights had been miniscule yet it had almost flattened him to do even a single lap. But after two or three days he realised he wasn't having nearly as much trouble with the runs. He even got to the point where he was enjoying them and looking forward to more.

Of course whenever that feeling arose the two sadists would make sure to increase the weights.

Ten days after he'd started this regime, they added a few variations to the routine. Weights strapped to his wrists to give his arm muscles something to fight against during the runs, weapons – replicas, not real ones – strapped to his sides so he could learn how to run whilst encumbered. Not to mention having to stop every hundred or so feet to drop and do twenty or so push-ups. With the pack on.

Three and a half weeks in he'd found himself under intense scrutiny from his teachers, one tinged with suspicion. The whole time he had been working on improving his muscles and getting his body into better shape, he had been watched. Some were the guards from the base who, at first, had viewed him with suspicion, not knowing why someone his age was fraternising with soldiers. Eventually they had grown used to his comings and goings and stopped paying him so much attention.

They did, though, keep a wary eye on him whenever he neared the armoury. They had never quite got past the shame of having someone break in and steal a rocket launcher from under their very noses the year before.

No, it was not that Mac and Tank had been keeping a close eye on him, to make sure he didn't relax his runs whenever he was out of their sight. To say the two veterans were impressed, was an understatement. Both had commented more than once that if, when he turned eighteen he decided to enlist, the special forces would be lucky to get someone as determined and focussed as him.

What bothered them, was how fast he was improving. Which was why they had finally pulled him aside.

**xXx**

"Xander, we need to talk."

Glancing over at Mac, Xander saw the serious expression on his teacher's face, and quickly joined him. Behind him, he could feel Tank watching them both.

"Xander, I need to ask you a question, and I need you to answer it truthfully.

"Are you using magic to enhance yourself?"

Of all the questions to be asked, that one hadn't even crossed his mind. It took a few moments to kickstart his mind, but once he had Xander had a question of his own.

"Uh, no sir. Why… why do you ask?"

Frowning at the young man standing nervously before him, Mac decided the blunt approach was best. "The things we have you doing are to make you stronger, faster, have better endurance. To do what we do, you need to be in peak physical condition at all times. As you were when we found you, you were surviving more on luck than skill.

"However," here he pinned the confused youngster with a steely gaze, "these are changes that will happen to your body over a course of months. It worked that way with myself, Tank, and every other person I've known. You on the other hand, have shown accelerated muscle growth and increased stamina that is simply impossible for the length of time you've been working out."

Sighing at the incomprehension on his student's face, Mac simplified, "Your body looks like it's been in constant training for three months, not three weeks. That is only possible if you've used enhancements of some sort."

Arms folded, his expression grim, he glared at a now panicky Xander. "Explain yourself now, or consider our collaboration at an end."

"Look… it's not… it's not what you think. I haven't… I mean…"

"Xander, your body needed to be gaining strength at its own speed. Cheating like you have… it shows I was wrong about you. I don't think this was a mistake. I..."

"_No!_ Wait! Let me explain. I haven't been using magic, or… or anything! I just… I've found that ever since… they… happened, I've been like this. It's not my fault, don't treat me like it is!"

At a loss, Mac shared a look with his larger comrade, before returning his gaze to Xander's. It was clear something out of the ordinary was going on, and obviously Xander knew what it was. At his insistent glare, the boy slumped, and began to explain.

"It first happened two years ago. I was visiting the zoo on a school trip when the spirits of a pack of hyenas jumped into me and some other students. We became violent, feral. And strong. Very strong. There was some damage done, a pig got eaten, and we…"

"Stop."

Xander, whose head had drooped so he was staring at his feet, jerked and looked up at the disbelieving gaze of his mentor.

"Kid, what the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Possession."

"Po…"

"Yeah. I've been possessed a couple of times so far. It's been… an experience."

Mac didn't know what to think. When he'd seen the too rapid development, he'd been expecting anything from performance enhancing drugs to illegal black magics. Never in his wildest dreams would he have even considered… _this_.

He needed more information. Now.

"_Explain_."

"Okay. The hyena thing got sorted by my friends, and as far as they know I remember none of it. I do. Remember it I mean. It was… bad. I did some things I'm not proud of, things I'm still trying to atone for. The other time was at Halloween last year. Did either of you notice anything weird happening that night? Unusual numbers of freaky attacks and strange occurrences?"

Seeing answering nods from his spellbound audience, he continued his tale.

"It was all because of a Chaos Mage, called Ethan Rayne. He cast a spell that caused everyone to turn into their costumes for one night, meaning all the kids who dressed up as goblins or demons, they… well… it was a bad night.

"I… dressed up as a soldier."

"Wha…?"

"It was all my budget could cover. I turned into Private First-Class Harris, with all the memories and skills that went with him. After Halloween, after we'd all reverted to ourselves, some of the memories and abilities… stuck around. For instance I can now strip down, take apart, and put back together an M16 assault rifle in about a minute and a half.

"The memories really came in useful last year, when a demon with the power to wipe out all life it came into contact with, attacked the Sunnydale Mall. It was a particularly nasty demon, since it was prophesied that no weapon forged by man could harm it.

"So I… borrowed a rocket launcher from the base and blew it up. We…"

"_What?!"_ Interrupted a suddenly furious Sergeant Bryce, "_You _stole it?! Have you _any _idea how much trouble we got into when we found out it was gone? Several soldiers got themselves transferred out of here, every man on sentry got a permanent black mark on their service record, and as for the sentry who got tricked by the two individuals who made off with it… he got a dishonourable discharge."

A now terrified Xander cowered away from the abruptly intimidating man before him. He wasn't sure what would happen next, but felt telling the truth had been the right choice. Regardless of the outcome. Guessing what was coming, he closed his eyes and waited for the blow to fall.

He was greatly surprised when, instead of finding a fist slamming into his gut, a meaty hand clapped him on the shoulder. Blinking in shock he could only stare at the grimly smiling visage before him.

"I don't like what you did, and swear to god that if you try anything like it again I will make you scream, but I can understand your reasoning. I just wish we'd met sooner. Me and Tank have been at this for a good few years now, and if we'd known what was going down we could have helped you acquire what you needed."

A shrug, washing the slate clean.

"It's water under the bridge. At least you managed to stop the demon, right? But back to the original question. How exactly did being possessed by two different entities help you with your training?"

Glad he was off the hook, he gave a sheepish smile and tried to sum up the explanation. "Oh, that. Well, I noticed after the second time that whenever I worked out even a little, my muscles would grow quite a lot. So I figure when you started helping me that it would kick in for that too. Simple."

"If you could build up muscle mass that fast, why in the name of all that is holy are you so out of shape?!" A highly irate sergeant is never something you want, especially directed at you.

"… Um, I'm lazy?"

Staring the remarkable young man in the eye, a man who thought himself weaker than his friends, Mac wanted badly to punch him for his stupidity. To have such a gift, and a drive to protect people, but to never think to use one to augment the other?

Mac was beyond furious. But he was still shocked when his ears registered the sound of a body hitting the ground. Looking down, he was guiltily pleased to see that his subconscious was less forgiving than he.

Which was why Xander Harris was lying flat on his back, out cold from the blow he didn't even remember throwing.

His guilt might have been greater, if not for the approving grin on Tank's face.

Next, other than waiting for the body to rouse, was to figure out how to use this new ability in the best possible way.

It was time for training to be pushed up a notch.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 3**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

This will not be a Super-Xander story, I've just given him a few… tweaks to make things easier. But this does not make him all powerful. He can become stronger faster, but will never approach a slayer or a vamp on a scale of strength.

Plus, it lets me skip over months of training.

Well, I hope to continue to interest you, and will post again next week.

Until then, ciao.

**Punster-Zero**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**xXx**

**Chapter 4**

**xXx**

Airborne, Xander had only a split second to brace for impact, before he slammed into the gravestone hard enough to blast the air from his lungs and cause black spots to swim in his vision. Fighting off the imminent darkness, knowing if it fell his death would be assured, he struggled to stop his shaking hands, and reached for a stake.

And not a moment too soon.

Hands filled with inhuman strength wrapped themselves around his throat and lifted him into the air. The few pitiful gasps of breath he'd managed to gather were barely enough to keep him conscious, but more than enough to let him see the descending fangs. With a last burst of will, he thrust forward, slamming the wood into its chest and through its unbeating heart. Its eyes began to widen in shock, then it was dust on the wind.

Yet again he found himself falling.

This time, lying on his back, the light dwindled and the world went away.

**xXx**

With a gasp he sat up, then wished he hadn't. His entire body was one massive bruise. It even hurt to breathe, though it didn't surprise him that much considering the pounding his chest had taken. Dragging himself to his feet, he weaved drunkenly from the small room he was in and towards the sound of voices.

"So you're finally awake. I was starting to wonder."

"So how long was I out?"

Mac simply snorted and exchanged an amused look with a stoic faced Tank. "Almost twelve hours. If I was a nicer guy, I might have been worried. To be honest, it was a bit embarrassing watching you fight. Didn't you remember _anything _we taught you?"

Xander reddened, and with good reason. It had been almost two solid months since he first met the soldiers, and the days had passed quickly with him spending most of his off time after school working out with them. He'd learned, if not quickly, and managed to get a more than passable understanding of proper fighting skills, as well as some weapons training – though they'd not allowed him much in the way of firepower just yet.

Yet with all that was going on with him, he knew that life progressed for the others, that Buffy and company continued to have their adventures, and they still consistently excluded him whenever possible.

The day before, he'd found how out of the loop he was when to his shock, he was questioned by Giles on the murder of the deputy mayor. Apparently the man had died when caught in a scuffle between the slayers and some vampires. That had not been the shock, but that Faith had been the one to kill him. Xander had been enraged when he discovered this, feeling he could have helped the dark slayer somehow, knowing something about the darkness inside. With the pressure building to find the culprit, he had been horrified to hear that Faith was trying to pin it on Buffy.

Not that they had come out and told him, of course.

Now there was a storm of investigations, not just by Giles, but also by the Watcher's Council and the police. The mysterious death of a member of government, even one as corrupt as Sunnydale's, had created much interest and many wanted to score brownie points with their evil overlord by handing in the killer.

Xander was fully intending to visit Faith, but after a patrol like tonight's where everything went pear-shaped and he almost died, he just wasn't up to helping someone else.

"I'm waiting for your answer, Kid."

Shaken from his woolgathering, his cheeks reddened even more when he realised they had been left waiting for him when his thoughts wandered.

"I wasn't watching the perimeter, that let the vamp get the drop on me."

"True, but not your primary mistake. Think again."

"I… didn't remember your training, and fought badly?"

"And?"

"I…" Xander floundered around, trying to remember his training, then flushed even more as something occurred to him, "I forgot about the gun."

"True. We did give you that Beretta in case you found yourself under attack from vamps, with a full clip of vamp-killer rounds, but it wouldn't have been any use to you there. Your enemy was too close in, and would have disarmed you before you got a shot off. But there was something else, do you know what?"

Again Xander found himself floundering, searching for the answer, only this time he came up blank. Mac's glaring eyes, and the eyes of the looming shadow at his back, made him shrink back as he shook his head in a negative. Seeing that their young protégé had missed the point, again, Mac lessened the power of his gaze and asked, "Xander, what are you? Are you a witch? A slayer? Are you part demon? Do you have anything that gives you an advantage over a vampire? No. You're human. _Normal_. Your mistake was simple.

"_You fought it like you were up against another human being_."

Finally, dawning comprehension.

"Vampires are at least two or three times your strength, and that's just the fledges. We haven't even begun to get you ready for demons and the like. The combat skills we've been showing you are useful, but not in a straight fight against what we hunt. The few weapons skills we've taught you are rudimentary at best, since you need to be in great physical shape before you can even _think_ about hauling around the kind of armaments you're going to need. Until you reach a certain point in your training, arming you with anything other than a wooden stake would cause more harm than good.

"Xander, I know you're smart, _you_ know you're smart. You were able to survive years without our help. But, if you're planning to take this up as your vocation, it's vital you think before rushing into a fight.

"Running straight into combat will do nothing more than get you killed. If you don't learn this, there's no point to us teaching you."

Sighing, Mac turned away and started to get ready to leave. "Xander I want you to go home. Go to school, watch your friends, understand what your poor tactics are threatening. If you're positive that this is what you want and you're willing to buckle down and put in the effort needed to succeed, come to the base in three days and ask for me. If you don't show, I won't think any less of you. But if you do, no more. No more of this foolishness, no more of your half-assed tries to do what we tell you. No more, you hear? No more fucking about. Either you do this right, or we don't do this at all."

Leaving the stunned and thoughtful youth behind, the two veterans walked away.

**xXx**

School was just as noisy, hectic and childish as ever, but Xander walked through the chaos in a daze.

He'd never really considered his lack of thought with his battle plans before. Sure, when he was about to enter a fight he'd make certain preparations to win – making note of how many bad guys there were, checking where the exits might be – but he'd never put any real effort into it. Now, looking back over the many scuffles he'd been in over the years, seeing the events through the eyes of his instructors, he was ashamed at his antics.

Before the Halloween incident, his juvenile tactics were understandable. But after? He'd had the memories of a soldier, not fadede'd had the memories of a soldier, not fadedHe'd had the memories of a soldier, not faded though fading, and the instincts had been strong within him, yet he had continued to rush headlong into dangerous situations. A sour taste filled his mouth as he suddenly realised how right his friends had been to push him out.

Keeping him besides them, with his lacklustre performance and foolish stunts, would have eventually got them all killed.

It was a humbling thought.

With the realisation came others. In most of the battles he'd participated in, Buffy had been fighting somewhere and now, with new eyes, he could see her tactics at work. He had known that though Buffy was strong, she was no match for some of the things she fought, but he'd never noticed before how she managed to take them down anyways.

Tactics.

She'd use their strengths against them. If they were strong but slow, she'd let them attack, then duck out of the way of the blow to deliver her own concise and precise blows, usually on a weak or sensitive point. If they were fast but weak, she would match them head on, taking the few injuries they were able to inflict to get in close enough to end them.

Even with vampires, where she was pretty evenly matched, she had her own special tactics. If she was fighting a group, she'd always knock opponents away in the direction of their allies, tying them up in confused masses of limbs as their flailing bodies collided. She always managed to be fighting only one or two at a time, regardless of the total number of foes, and for her, one or two vamps were as good as dust.

So Mac had been right. If he kept going the way he was, he just end up doing more harm than good. But there was the rub.

He couldn't stop.

As bad as he was, as poor as his showing proved to be, he knew that the few seconds of grace he could give his friends by diverting an enemy's attention was enough to potentially save their lives. As long as they lived through it, he didn't care if he did not.

Finally, lightning struck.

He understood.

He'd always known he was marked for death. Hanging with the slayer with all the enemies she had, it was obvious that he'd be considered a target by those wishing to hurt her. But he stuck by her anyways. Not without fear, but because of it. He'd only ever had three true friends. One he'd had to stake. The others were still alive, but their days were numbered.

Doing this – training, learning, fighting. It would ease the burdens that lay on those he cared about. He didn't matter, only they did.

His life for them.

If – no, when he did this, he would be moving himself into the spotlight. Putting himself in front of the Slayer and the Scoobies. Telling the underworld that to get to them, they'd have to cut him down first. He would protect them with his life, and do it willingly.

He would become dead man walking.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 4**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

Finally, a fight scene.

I know some of you would have been wondering what the heck was going on, this being Buffy after all. But finally a tussle occurs – it was just... short.

As you will have noticed, this story is taken almost exclusively from Xander's perspective, meaning that things he's not around for, he is more or less unaware of – unless they impact directly on him or the plot.

I hope you can live with my vision of this.

I want to make one other point. I have been doing some pretty severe time-jumps past the training, but I assure you there is a reason. I feel that some people who write training montages don't actually know what they're talking about, and get things wrong, or ramble on too long about the little things – in essence, they lose the readers interest by getting too detailed. I'm just pretty sure I would fall in with that crowd, so have skipped past those areas.

You might not agree with this, but I didn't want to bore you with all the workouts and runs and combat training he'd have to go through, so have bypassed them. If you don't like this – I'm sorry. But at least the training is pretty much over now.

And next week, the fun begins.

**Punster-Zero**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**xXx**

**Chapter 5**

**xXx**

Something had gone terribly wrong.

Xander had finally been able to squeeze in some free time, and decided to give Faith a visit. Knowing, thanks to an intimate encounter, exactly where she lived, he turned up at her door and finagled his way inside. She seemed bothered by his presence, but he brushed it off at first as being uncomfortable around him due to the awkward circumstances of his last visit, as well as the shadows surrounding the deputy mayor's death.

At first.

As the conversation progressed, he noticed she was only paying slight attention to what he was saying. It would have completely slipped him by before but, with the new lessons he'd been getting on reading body language and other telltale signs of stress, he could see them plain as day.

Faith had fallen.

It was a thousand tiny things. The way she moved her hands, how her eyes wouldn't meet his, the distance she kept between them. The way she reacted to some of the news he gave her, her replies to some of his queries. The signs were there for those who knew how to read them. She had slipped into darkness, and something had found her.

Looking at the fake smirk on her face, at the false cheer at his presence, it hurt him.

Xander knew, with the realisations that had allowed him to move on with the training – both physical and mental, that if he'd been there for her, she might not have fallen. She could have been saved. Now, she was so far lost she couldn't even see the light, and didn't even realise what had happened. He could only hope that she might yet be turned back towards good, otherwise she'd need to be put down.

And much as it would rend his soul, as much as it would scar him, he knew he would do it without a qualm.

For he didn't matter.

But for now, he needed to pump her for information. And he thanked god yet again that no-one had discovered his other life. With that knowledge hidden, Faith would never see him as he truly was, never make the connection between the many things he asked her, the small facts she was letting slip, never realising he was a threat to her existence.

It was to his profound relief when, after about twenty minutes, she mentioned she had to be somewhere and she needed him to go. Not once had her body language changed. Nothing had changed with him, at least in her eyes. So bidding her a cheery farewell, he left and moseyed away, trying not to show how desperately he wanted to run to his allies.

Plans must be made.

**xXx**

"Xander? What are you doing here? We're scheduled to meet at the graveyard, remember?"

"Mac, I've got two things to say to you. One, We have a serious problem with Faith. Two, I've told you before – call me _Walker_."

Worry at anything that could create concern with the other slayer caused the older man's face to stiffen, while the rebuke over the name brought a slight flush to his cheeks.

It had not been even two days before Xander had returned to them, wishing to continue their instruction, but almost instantly they saw he was a changed man. He had lost none of his humour, but had gained a new drive and determination that had managed to scare his teachers on more than one occasion.

Mac couldn't help but think on the conversation they had when he first returned.

**xXx**

"So what made up your mind?"

Xander glanced over at the Sergeant as he strapped on some weights, and considered his answer.

"I did what you said. I went to school, hung out with my friends, explored my reasons. And I figured out why.

"Ever since Buffy came to town, every demonic creature with the slightest interest in the Hellmouth has had my name. In effect, she put me on the front lines of a war without my realising it – but don't get me wrong, if given the choice I would choose to do this anyway. The thing is…"

Xander paused for a second, staring off into space, then shrugged.

"I'm going to die. Being human makes that inevitable. Living on the Hellmouth just means it'll come sooner. But helping out the way I do, the way I can. Doing this with you, training myself up, it means when I do finally fall I get the added bonus of taking my enemies with me, instead of being just one more casualty."

Mac stared at him, not quite able to believe the calm and fatalistic way the kid had just discussed his own death.

"Doesn't that bother you? I mean, most people would do anything to get even one more hour of life, but you… you don't seem to care"

"Oh come on, sir, everyone knows shit happens. It'll just happen to me a bit sooner than it happens to everyone else. You just have to look at my home life to see the truth."

Standing up, having finished getting ready, he nodded at his mentor briefly before starting his workout, leaving a slightly worried man behind him.

Mac watched the retreating back, and felt a pang of sorrow. A part of their investigations had covered Xander's family, and it had not been pretty, but it was clear that Xander himself – though greatly disliking it – didn't see anything wrong with it. He actually thought it was normal. Mac though, knew parents should never treat their kids the way they treat him.

But because of his treatment, the way Xander saw the world was different to everyone else's. In all his years, Mac had never met anyone so upbeat, so kind-hearted, who at the same time had almost no sense of self-worth. Xander truly considered himself a nonentity, and felt that his death wouldn't even raise a blip on anyone's radar.

As such, his willingness to train, to improve himself, to make his life better, had nothing to do with him – it all revolved about those he cared about.

As long as they were alright, he didn't give a damn about himself.

That more than anything, made Mac determined that not only would he see to it that Xander survived – he would flourish. If it took everything he had, Mac would ensure that Xander lived long enough to realise how important he truly was, and how important he was to those around him.

Sergeant Mackenzie Bryce swore to himself, in the privacy of his own soul, that come hell or high water, Xander Harris would live.

**xXx**

Yet as well as the newfound determination, there was one other thing he had also returned with. The desire to be known as Walker from then on.

His reason had been simple. If he was going to be a hunter he needed a name, something that would instil fear into the hearts, or what passed for hearts, of the demons he fought. A name he would spread throughout the underworld, one that would eventually, he hoped, be as notorious as Slayer. But a name that would eventually make its way back _to _the slayer.

It was vital that Xander's new identity remained a secret from his friends. If they found out, there was no knowing how far they'd go to 'protect' him.

Unfortunately, it had proven harder than first thought to achieve. Not because the name chosen was hard to remember, but because Mac kept forgetting to call him by it. For the most part Xander found it highly amusing that the big, tough, professional soldier, the man who was giving him lessons on secrecy, was consistently screwing up this one little task and calling him by the wrong name.

But sometimes, it was just irritating.

Reaching the empty mess hall, they took a pair of seats out of the way and Xander leant forward. "Mac, I think we've lost her. Faith. I think she gone."

Mac's eyes narrowed, as he gazed at the distraught young man before him. It was clear to him, using the very knowledge of body language he was passing on, that Xander and Faith had something of a history together. To understand, properly, what was so worrying, he needed the story to be clear.

"Xander, listen to me. I need you to calm down and tell me what happened, _exactly_ what happened. Explain your reasoning. This is too important to make a mistake over. Xander, focus."

Breathing deeply, cleansing himself of his panic and worry, Xander let his heart slow and his thoughts organise. Mac was right. Giving the information haphazardly would only confuse the issue, and could endanger them all the more if he'd misconstrued the signs. Finally calm, he gazed at the man who'd rapidly filled the void in his life of a mentor, and began to explain.

**xXx**

Silence.

After having gone through it all, with probing questions from Mac bringing up things he'd completely missed, they now sat quietly. Xander in worry, and Mac in contemplation.

At last, Mac raised his head, and gazed at the other. Xander met his gaze eagerly, only for the hope to die at the sorrow in the older man's eyes. "I'm sorry Xander, but you're right. Faith's lost. With what you've told me, a number of the rumours I've been hearing have been cleared up.

"I'm sorry, but I think she's the Mayor's new lieutenant. His new pet killer. I…" Seeing that Xander was about to protest he raised his hand and forestalled him, "Xander, trust me. If she's willing to turn to an evil like the Mayor, then even if you'd managed to get to her, it's unlikely you could have saved her. I know you cared for her, but at this time, you have to consider her a casualty of war.

"And if you meet her during a patrol, you're going to have to put her down like any other soulless animal."

He could see the pain on Xander's face, the need to cry out, to rail against what had happened, to fight against the inevitable. But he did none of it. Instead the tension slowly drained out of the man, and he slumped in his seat, his head drooping at knowing someone he could have cared about deeply, was lost to him.

Letting the younger man mourn, Mac sat there, saying nothing, just giving comfort by his presence. Eventually Xander's head rose. His eyes still held the pain of loss, but were also filled with a great rage. A rage that could only be quenched in the blood of his enemies.

Standing up, Xander strode silently from the building to begin his hunt, not caring about the shadow that followed him, to help him only if he needed it.

**xXx**

It wasn't fucking fair.

The one time he really needed something to kill – not to protect his friends, not to save the world, but simply to cause as much carnage as possible – he couldn't find a single vamp. Three cemeteries. Not a single enemy. He would've screamed, but with his luck he'd scare off anything lurking nearby.

Now he found himself stalking through the alleyways that snaked throughout the town, hoping for a chance meeting. He was almost ready to give in and go home and brood, when he heard a bestial snarling followed by a cry of pain. With all the time he'd spent fighting, he recognised instantly the sound of a vampire's attack.

A wolfish smile gracing his features, he moved towards the disturbance. Guess his luck was about to change.

Turning a corner, he found his targets. Drawing out a stake, he steadied himself in preparation, but froze as a horrifyingly familiar voice floated out of the darkness. Even as he watched disbelievingly, a lithe form moved into view, and he could have screamed from the pain that filled him.

Willow.

Willow… the vampire.

His heart was rent in two. She was dead. His best friend, the one who had stayed at his side through thick and thin. The only true friend of his childhood – dead. Turned.

Lost.

The fires of rage that had filled him a moment before were nothing to the flames that filled him now. His mind seemed to retreat as his lips peeled back and his face contorted into a grimace of hate. At any other time it would have been comical to see, but with the look in his eyes, the darkness that filled him, even Angelus would have paused.

He was moving without conscious will. The first vampire was dust without warning, the second following him with time only to gape. The third had time to swing a blow, one that seemed to be moving in almost slow motion for Xander. A blow he brushed aside with contemptuous ease, before sliding the stake in and out of its chest, leaving it to disintegrate behind him, ignored. At last standing motionless before her, a girl he realised he loved. His Willow.

"Xander."

Even within the icy tomb of his heart, he could hear the coldness of death through the pleasure in her voice. The demonic entity that she had become knew him. He gazed upon her, seeing the small smile as she gazed back, he knew what he had to do. They had had long and difficult conversations in the past, in the very case that this ever happened.

He had a promise to keep.

"Willow, come here."

His voice, gentle. His eyes, soft. Her smile widened as she entered his arms and buried herself in his scent.

"The world's no fun anymore. I want it back the way it was. Help me, please?"

Gazing down into her dark eyes, he smiled tenderly as he slowly leant in. "Anything for you, Willow you know that. Time to rest."

A flash of confusion in her eyes, that quickly disappeared as his lips softly met hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as the kiss deepened, and then it ended. Not with happiness, but with grief.

His teary eyes slowly opened to look through the rapidly settling dust that had been Willow Rosenberg.

"I'm sorry Willow, I'm so sorry."

Falling to his knees, he finally let the tears fall, damping the few ashy remains of a girl he once knew.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 5**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

I know, I'm cruel.

If it makes you feel any better, it makes me a little sad whenever I read this, and I'm the one who _wrote_ it. And yes, a wee bit of a cliffy.

The next chapter is going to be a _wee_ bit angst filled, considering how this one ended. So be prepared for a weepy.

Until next week.

**Punster-Zero**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**Author's Note :  
**I want to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews, since I just realised I haven't been doing so. It makes me feel all warm and tingly that people like my work and want more, so thank you.

I also want to point out the reason I'm posting this a day early. It is not (just) because lots of nice people have been asking for another update, but because tomorrow I'm going to be out of the country at a friend's wedding and wouldn't be able to post as per normal.

Next week chapter 7 should be up on Friday, as usual.

**xXx**

**Chapter 6**

**xXx**

The grey and cracked ceiling over his bed filled his vision as he opened his eyes. The memory of getting home was blank, the space completely taken up by the knowledge that Willow was gone. Dead, first by a vampire, then by his hand.

He'd killed her.

Lying there, he didn't want to move. Moving would make it all the more real. Until he left the confines of his bed, it could seem to be a dream. A cold, hard, terrible dream – but a dream nonetheless. A frantic beeping nearby caught his attention and drew his empty gaze.

Eight fifteen. Time for school.

A mad, maniacal laugh bubbled up inside him, and threatened to overflow. Going to school after staking his best friend. His mind almost couldn't handle the irony.

Pulling back the covers, he stood up. If he'd looked in the mirror as he dressed, the emptiness starkly apparent that filled him would have stunned him immobile. But he didn't look. He simply finished getting ready and left the house.

**xXx**

Again it happened.

He knew he'd walked to school, but the memory wasn't there. Instead, he was captured again by the sweetness of his Willow's lips as he'd kissed her. As he'd staked her. He didn't even notice as Miss Chase walked past making noises about his continued lack of dress sense. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Willow was gone.

Still unaware, he feet slowly led him through the school, until at last he stood before the double doors of the library.

Giles had to know. That Willow…

Xander's eyes threatened to tear up again, but he ruthlessly pushed them back. He needed to do this, before it got too hard. He needed to explain.

Pushing through the swing doors, he started to speak, "Giles, I need to tell you something. Last night, I…"

He was interrupted, as someone spoke from the stacks.

"Hi Xander! Are you alright?"

Everything stopped.

His heart, his mind, everything.

It was impossible.

His head moving like an old man's, he slowly searched for, and found the owner of the voice. Willow. Alive.

He wasn't even aware of stepping back until he hit the wall behind him. Peripherally he could see the worried expressions of the others, but his eyes were fixed on her.

She was dead. _Dead_. She couldn't be here. It was impossible. _Impossible_.

He wasn't aware when he started to run.

**xXx**

He had no idea when he'd stopped, but his lungs were aching and his legs afire, his back pressed against a wall of the alley he found himself in. He couldn't understand it. She was dust. He knew it, _knew_ it. But she wasn't. He needed to speak to someone about this, but couldn't face the Scoobies. They'd all want to know why he'd acted the way he had. And just then, whatever skill in lying he had was gone. If he spoke with them, it was almost guaranteed they'd discover his secret life.

He needed someone inside the loop, but outside the core group. He needed someone he could trust to keep their mouth shut if anything slipped out. He needed…

His thoughts stopped dead. There was one person he could go to. Not someone he'd ever considered before, not someone he thought he'd ever approach for anything, but someone who could give the him the help he needed.

Pushing off the wall, he orientated himself. Once facing the right direction, he set off.

**xXx**

His knuckles ached as he lowered them after knocking on the door, but it was a good ache. It let his mind wander from the thing he was about to do. A click of a lock brought his attention back to the here and now, and his eyes refocused just in time for the door's opening. To pin the gaze of a very startled Angel.

"I need to come in. We need to talk."

Pushing past the stunned vampire he entered the small flat beyond. Briefly, his mind wandered back to the time when he'd forced this very individual at cross point to help him save a girl he thought he loved, a girl he thought the vampire had loved.

"So what can I do for you?"

Shaken from his thoughts, he turned and looked at Angel. The vampire was obviously confused by his appearance. With good reason. The number of times Xander had actually gone _looking_ for the vamp with a soul could be counted on one hand.

"Angel, I need to talk to you about last night. I need you to tell me what happened to Willow." Seeing his mouth open, Xander cut across him, "No bullshitting Angel, no fucking around. I need the god's honest truth. Tell me straight – _what happened_?"

The vampire stared at him for a long moment. Whatever was passing through his mind was unclear to Xander, since it was impossible to read his body language – undead couldn't _be_ read, since they didn't have a pulse. He just hoped Angel would decide to help him.

He breathed a sigh or relief as the vampire hesitantly began.

"Last night an ex-demon by the name of Anyanka tried to bring back her power by manipulating Willow into casting a spell. Instead, they accidentally summoned a vampire Willow from another dimension. They…"

The rest was lost to Xander as his mind froze for the second time that day.

He'd killed Willow, it just hadn't been _his _Willow.

She was alive.

The emotions filling him were numbing in number and in force. He didn't know what to feel. On the one hand, the girl he'd realised he had deep feelings for was alive and well. On the other, he'd spent a dark and pain-filled night mourning her loss, after _staking_ her. The feelings roiled around in his stomach, and pounded through his veins. How he was going to cope with looking at her, knowing what he'd done, he couldn't imagine.

Gradually he became aware of some of what Angel had been saying while he'd been lost in thought.

"Wait! You say you lost track of her?"

Eyeing the distressed young man, Angel hoped he wasn't about to be attacked in a blind fit of rage, so was careful in his answer, "After she left the Bronze she disappeared into the side streets and back alleyways that fill this town, and even if I'd been tracking her I'd have doubts of my ability to follow."

"But why _weren't _you following her?"

The look Xander now received was one filled with suspicion. "I already told you. I had left to get Buffy and bring her to the Bronze. Xander, are you alright?"

Xander knew he was in trouble. Angel, though a bastard in Xander's book, was too intelligent not to notice if he started lying now. Frantically running over his options he remembered something Mac had once told him, 'always remember kid, if you find yourself with no other way out but to tell the truth, do so. Just remember that it doesn't have to be the whole truth.' A half truth was what he needed, and a moment of furious thinking later he had one.

"Last night I was heading to the Bronze. I was hoping to hook up with Willow and Buffy for a night of fun. I had a stake on me in case I ran into trouble, and… I found some." Though he had dropped his gaze to the rug, out of the corner of his eye he could see the stiffening of the vampire. Now to add just enough more to make it believable. "It was Willow. Vampire Willow. She was standing there, looking up at the stars. When she heard me she turned, and smiled. She walked up to me as calm as can be, and hugged me, saying something about the world going wrong.

"I did the only thing I could do. I…"

Pausing to choke back a sob, not a fake but one from his heart, he staggered to the finish, "Angel… I staked her. I killed her. I _killed_ her. She was dust in my arms. She… I… then this morning, walking in, _seeing_ her…"

Tears streaming freely down his cheeks he gazed stricken at the silent vampire, "What am I supposed to do? I know she's alive, that she's okay, but in my heart, in my mind… I know she's dead. How can I face her _now_?"

His eyes red from weeping, Xander slumped to the ground, not caring of the weakness he was showing a man he'd once considered his rival. Instead he slowly continued, truth bubbling up out of him, "Is this how it is, for you? Being around Buffy, knowing she died once before, knowing she'll die again. Knowing one day, regardless of what you do, she will leave. Unable to ever touch her, fearing the loss of your soul, knowing that even a kiss is torture enough to shrivel your heart, but unable to stop yourself…

"How can you stand it?"

"I can't. Which is why I'm leaving."

Shocked from his misery, Xander looked at Angel. Really looked at him, for once. Not seeing the vampire, nor the champion, just the man. A man who'd made a decision, one that would cause pain to him and those close to him, but which would give them the freedom they needed to find love with someone else.

Even if Angel himself never did.

In that moment, Xander understood _why_ the Powers-That-Be had made this man a champion. And understood why he himself would never attain the same.

"I love Buffy. With all my heart and soul, I love her. But being here, being with her, but not touching her – it hurts us both. I need to set her free. She needs to find love with her own kind.

"She doesn't deserve the pain being with me will bring."

Returning Xander's gaze, a smile quirked his lips. "You know I don't like you, right? That's not because of any big thing, it's just that… in you I could see someone she could have been truly happy with. I'm jealous. You two will get to have the life I can only dream of. I…"

"Not going to happen."

The words knocked Angel back. Searching the youngster's eyes, he could see no falsehood. "Buffy… I care for her, deeply. When I first met her, I thought I might love her. But I don't. I care about her, and would protect her if I could, but I don't want to be with her.

"Angel, you might have been jealous of what we could have had, but it was the jealousy of someone looking through a small window. If you could've seen the whole picture, you'd have realised you were the only one to have a chance at her heart. Me? I never did."

The two men, bonding in a way they never thought possible, over a girl they had been fighting for as long as they'd known each other. They got to their feet and calmly, easily, with none of the rancour and mistrust that had so marked their dealings to date, shook hands. Understanding was reached, a connection forged. Though the two would never be friends, they were now allies in the one cause equally important to them both.

The safety and happiness of the girls they cared about.

Moving to leave, Xander suddenly remembered with an embarrassed flush the reason he'd sought Angel out in the first place.

"Ah… Angel? There's something else, I need your help. I need you to do something for me. I… I need you to lie.

"I want you to tell Buffy and the rest that last night, after splitting off from them, you ran into me. That I told you I'd seen a turned Willow, that I'd barely escaped with my life. That you'd told me to go home and barricade the doors, and you'd take care of her.

"Angel, I want you to tell them that you had to stake her."

"Xander…"

"Listen, it would explain my… overreaction this morning in the library. But more importantly, I… I don't…. I don't want Willow looking at me, knowing I had to put a piece of wood through her chest last night. I don't want her with that kind of guilt. I'm begging you, it was bad enough with her knowing I had to kill Jesse. Don't make her go through this too."

The room was quiet. Everything of import had been said. All that was left, was Angel's decision.

"Xander, of course I will. Go home, get some rest, compose yourself. I'll drop by later and tell you exactly what I said. Don't worry, this'll blow over. Besides, we have too much time worrying about what the Mayor's up to, to worry over this."

Xander stared incredulously at Angel, at the weak smile he had, at the poor attempt at humour.

And in what felt like the first time for a lifetime, Xander laughed.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 6**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

I want to make one thing clear. When I began writing this story I had a very clear image in my mind of how Xander and Angel would get on, and was seriously looking forward to writing it. Imagine my shock and horror when this chapter happened. Unfortunately, for myself, this worked too well for me to delete or rework, so it had to stay.

Believe me, please, that this was _not_ what I was after.

The only good thing is, I might be able to still write in the scene I envisioned – so here's hoping.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that it answered a few questions, and _really _hope you come back next week.

Ciao for now.

**Punster-Zero**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**Author's Note :  
**For those who mentioned it, the wedding was great. The weather started out gloomy but soon it began to shine – amusing for some as most people had dressed for rain :P

As promised here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy.

**xXx**

**Chapter 7**

**xXx**

The building was almost empty, only three figures stood within. Two were older men, grizzled and learned; the last was a dark-haired young man who was currently pummelling a punching bag. If someone had entered just then and watched him, their first thoughts would have been filled with amusement at his excess of enthusiasm; yet if they had been able to see his eyes, they would have told a different story.

They said it all.

Pain. Anguish. Hatred. Rage.

The emotions so strong they were almost tangible on the air, a miasma of negativity that wrapped its icy tendrils round those near him. His jaw was locked, teeth clenched, as he continued to rain down blows on the bag, yet his eyes were unfocussed, his attention elsewhere – his need unassuaged.

The two other men watched him with a certain level of concern, as the level of physical violence that thrummed through his lithe frame rose another notch.

"We have to do something," The taller of the two spoke quietly, so the intense youth wouldn't hear, "or else he's going to burn himself out. Or worse, the next time he goes on patrol he's going to get himself turned. This can't go on."

His companion turned his own attention to his partner and nodded absently, still worried about the events of earlier. When Mac had seen Xander stagger in, with the look of someone fresh from a war-zone, he'd been afraid that something terrible had happened to one of his school friends. As Xander's words had tumbled out, he quickly realised he'd been right – just not in the way he'd thought.

Hearing that Xander had run into a vampire-Willow had deeply shocked Mac, and he'd felt a deep wrenching pity for his young protégé as, with the experience of age, Mac had quickly realised that Xander felt far deeper for the girl than even _he_ knew. Understanding filled him as Xander described what happened after, of the time-lapses and blank spots, but had turned to a sick-horror when Xander reached the crux of the tale.

Dealing with the knowledge that the girl staked hadn't been the girl he loved, she had only been a copy from another universe.

The idea made Mac's brain hurt, but he could see what the revelation had cost Xander. Gone was the determined yet happy soul, ready with a quip or a jest, willing to sacrifice his own life to protect his friends. In its place was left a husk, an empty shell, one that moved and breathed and looked like Xander Harris, but had lost its spark.

The man hadn't even bothered to go to school today, he'd just shown up at the base and started to exercise. Glancing back at Tank, he could see the worry in his own eyes reflected back at him.

"I know, but what can we do? You know what he's going through, we all did at one time or another. It's just… he's so young he doesn't know how to handle it. If we stop the training you know damn fine well he'll just go out alone and without backup, but as he is he's too screwed up to pick up anything new."

"What about…"

Tank trailed off, but his raised eyebrows seemingly got the message across as a split second later Mac's forehead furrowed and he stepped closer as he dropped his voice.

"Are you fucking insane?" The words came out hissed, but the shock and anger were evident, "Based on our intel this meeting is too important to fuck up, and the way _he _is now… he's likely to kill the seller the moment they meet."

"Either way, it could help."

"_Help?_"

Tank smirked, though it held a distinct lack of humour.

"If Xander is able to handle the meeting without resorting to violence, then he's definitely on the mend. On the other hand, if he winds up killing the mark…"

He shrugged, ignoring his friend's disbelieving stare.

"As you're well aware, we know where he's been hiding out, and it would be simplicity to break in and search the place. The…" Tank stopped, noticing that a third person had joined them. Other than shooting Mac a hard glare, and receiving one in return, he said nothing more on the subject.

"So Xander, feel any better? It looked like you were having quite a workout." The tone was jocular, but his gaze was serious as he waited for an answer.

"Is something up?" His voice was gravely with disuse, the tone harsh. As ever, his eyes were dead, blank, and Mac couldn't help but shiver.

"Yeah," wanting greatly to look at Tank, Mac nonetheless ignored the impulse and stared Xander straight in the eye, "we've received word through some of our underworld contacts that there's a demon wanting to leave town, and has some merchandise to sell to ease the journey."

"So I'm to kill him, retrieve the stuff, something like that?"

That he could so matter-of-factly talk of killing, without even a change in inflection, made Mac pause to reconsider. But before he could rethink things, Tank butted in, "Not necessarily. He's asking for money, and we've got enough in our discretionary funds to cover it. If…"

He stopped at Xander's raised hand. "Discretionary funds?"

"Yeah, we have some money we put aside to help buy equipment and the like. Not everything we need can be lifted from the local armoury, sometimes we need more… esoteric items." Flicking a questioning glance at Xander, and seeing a nod of understanding, he got back to the point. "Anyway, if you can try to resolve it without murder. Just pay him, get the stuff and leave. That's all."

"Fine." The dissatisfaction clearly evident, Xander still signalled compliance. "So what am I after?"

"I think that, since he's the one that received the tip, Mac should explain this." Tank, having muddied the waters nicely, stepped back to let his friend take any remaining heat. And from the glare he received, Mac was well aware of his motives.

"As mentioned, we have a number of contacts in the underworld, various creatures and demons interested in making a quick buck, as such we've been getting hints of something big on the horizon. Something bad. Even so, we know very little, only that it has something to do with the Mayor, and it's called an 'Ascension'.

"According to the demon, he has in his possession a number of books describing this ritual in detail; so I hope you can understand the importance of this. There's also a good chance that word of this will have also filtered back to the Mayor, so we have to move fast. It's the other reason you shouldn't just kill him. I doubt you'll have enough time to search the place before _his_ goons arrive – and no matter what training you've received, you won't be able to take a pack of vampires, let alone if there's a certain dark slayer."

He paused, to assess Xander's reaction to the restrictions. From the frown of concentration on the kid's face, he hoped the message had gotten through.

"So killing him would be of the bad, eh? Well that sucks. How about if I just beat him up a bit, would that be okay?" Xander sounded almost conversational as he spoke, but Mac wasn't fooled.

"…Why would you do that?"

"I don't know, he might piss me off. Or maybe I'll just feel like it." The dark smile as it was said was disturbing to behold, and Mac felt even more uneasy about this course of action – but the die was cast. The roll of bills was handed over and, with a brisk nod, Xander grabbed his things and headed for the showers to clean up before heading out. Alone at last, Mac rounded on his partner.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing? Sending him out now, like this? It's going to get him killed!"

"If it happens, it happens."

Mac gaped soundlessly, but Tank was barely begun.

"Mac, how are your kids, your wife? Or your sister? Or parents? Oh that's right, you haven't spoken to them in years, haven't seen them in even longer. Why is that? Why is it that I never speak to my family, that I have no friends other than you, that I'm pretty much alone. Do you remember?"

The question was obviously rhetorical, as he continued speaking, merely noting the dawning comprehension on his friend's face, "How many people have we met over the years that do what we do, fight what we fight. And how many of them… have families? Everyone like us, those who decide to fight demons and vampires, we all know what we're getting into, and what the dangers are. The very first thing we do is protect those we care about; we push them out of our lives, drive them away through lies and deception, make them hate us and forget us – knowing that as long as they're gone, they're safe from our enemies.

We isolate ourselves so that when we die, we don't take those we care about with us.

"Xander's never learned that lesson, until now. Keeping those he cares about around him might make him feel better when he's down, but when something bad happens to them, the pain is so much worse. It's a mistake we all make at one point or another, and it's something we all have to work through on our own. If he can't deal with this, if he can't handle the guilt and the rage, he's in the wrong line of work and… needs to stop."

Tank looked away from Mac, fixing his eyes on the wall so as to not see the emotion in his friend's gaze.

"I like him, but I'm not going to let myself get attached until I know he's worth it. He has the potential to be a great asset, but at the same time he could be a major threat to us. He's at the centre of things, with connections to some of the major players on our side, but could cause unbelievable damage if he slips up.

"So yes, sending him out like this might get him killed, might fuck everything up where he is concerned, but it needs doing. If being forced to stake a copy of a friend, a creature that shouldn't have even existed, something that doesn't even matter since the girl still lives; if that is enough to make him crack…"

He stopped, and shook his head slowly.

"Better we find out now, while we can still get rid of him. I know you care for him, that you consider him almost the son you never had… but if we let him in too far and then he breaks, the only option left would be to kill him ourselves."

With that, Tank turned and left, leaving Mac alone with his thoughts. He was in turmoil; on the one hand, he did like the kid, and care for him more than he should – on the other, Tank was right. If this was able to break him, he wasn't right for the job. Wandering over to a window, he couldn't help but notice the lithe form of one Xander Harris disappearing down the street.

He only prayed that whatever happened that night, anything Xander ran across would deserve the pain, suffering and death that would fall upon its head.

**xXx**

Though his strides were confident, and his posture alert, inside he was a mass of rage and self-loathing. Xander yearned for something to lunge out of the shadows, for something to attack so he could vent on them in the form of violence, the darkness that filled him. Speaking with Angel had helped him, in part with his feelings towards the ensouled vampire, and with his own actions. Yet there still remained a gaping hole in his heart.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw yet again Willow's beautiful face crumble to dust as he ended her existence.

He couldn't bear it. Being near her, at school or in the library, it was a living torture. So he avoided it, and her. For the first time, he found the estrangement forced upon him to be a blessing, not a curse.

Since no-one noticed when he wasn't around anymore, they continued to be ignorant of his pain. It was one of the few small comforts in his miserable existence.

Training helped somewhat. Being able to pound his flesh into solid immovable objects, feel the pain in his limbs from over-exertion, it distracted him. Punishment, of the body or mind, was what he craved, and the pain was a soothing balm against the emotional wound. But it didn't last.

So a task, any task, was a boon to him. Something to pull his mind away from the oozing wound, and back into the world.

Xander started slightly, as he suddenly realised that in his distracted musings he'd not been paying attention to his surroundings, and had arrived at the meet point. Somewhat disappointed that nothing had tried to snack on him, thus earning him some sweet release, he glanced around darkly for the seller.

Movement behind him had him whirling, but it was only a cat. Relaxing the tension that strummed through his muscles, he glided forward and began to examine the buildings nearby. Most were run down apartments, with only rats for tenants, but a few still had life residing within. A sudden thought struck him, and he moved towards the closest inhabited domicile, peering through the filthy window.

Instantly he smiled, for within the room stood a demon rifling through an old tome. He continued to watch even as the demon shut the book, then slid it into a hidden compartment in its wardrobe – in which he plainly saw a number of other books, all matching the first's appearance. Having seen enough, he moved silently to the door, then knocked. Hard.

His smile turned to a smirk as the sounds from within disappeared, before a quavering voice called out. "Wh.. who is it?"

Leaning up to the door, he spoke quietly but firmly. "I'm here for the books, and I have your money. Open the door. _Now_."

A moment later he heard the locks click, and the door opened a crack, letting a hesitant eye peer out. In no mood for games, Xander slammed his shoulder against the shoddy wood, propelling the smaller demon backwards and to the ground, and giving Xander access to the squalid little room. Glaring coldly at the cowering demon, he waited for the 'negotiations' to begin.

"Wh.. who're you? Did the slayer send you?"

"Slayer? No, not with that one. I'm Walker. I'm… new in town, and as I said, I'm here for the books." The expression on the demon's face twisted through a gamut of emotions. Fear, confusion, greed. It was all present, but the greed won out.

"The price is…"

"Irrelevant. I have this," He held up the cash roll and watched the demon's eyes light up, "and you're going to give me the books. Or you can try to haggle. I kind of hope you do, my bosses don't want me to hurt you unless you get… difficult." He leant forward, and felt a shock of pleasure as the demon flinched back, "I've been having a bad couple of days, and would really appreciate the chance to carve me some demon, so please, fuck with me, see what happens."

From the stain spreading on the crotch of the demon's trousers, the message had clearly sunk in. Yet the demon still had the nerve to try.

"Wh.. what makes you think you'll be able to even find them, if I say no? They could be anywhere. More money… might be required."

His smile was all teeth now, as his breathing deepened and he practically growled out, "You mean like in a secret compartment? In a wardrobe, for instance?"

The fear rapidly made a reappearance.

"I suggest you take the money, and we make this trade." Cowering and urine-stained, the demon shakily scurried away, and a moment later Xander found himself weighed down with a bag filled with a set of five musty, old books. Turning to leave, he paused on the threshold, "Incidentally, I feel I should add something. If these books turn out to be duds, useless, I am personally going to hunt you down. A slayer would just kill you, what _I'll_ do is far worse."

"L..l..look, the d..deal is good. The books are everything I said they'd be. That's why I'm leaving. The Mayor wants me dead. Without the money, I'm fucked. _Please!_"

The demon's incessant whining was starting to grate on his nerves, but Xander was appeased. He doubted that someone, anyone, as terrified as this one was would have the capacity to lie so convincingly, so knew it to be true – at least as far as the demon knew.

Trying to ignore the twisting desire in his gut to end the pitiful existence before him, he spun on the spot and strode from the room, leaving its occupant shaking in relief at his leaving, and trying to regain control of its limbs.

Moving through the darkness, letting it wrap itself around him, he was distantly aware that to any watchers his gait, his very bearing was screaming 'predator', but he was more occupied with other things.

With the task complete and the objective in hand, he found his thoughts spiralling back into the darkness that seemed to be consuming him. So lost in thought was he, that he never even noticed the brunette slayer walk across the street and enter the building he'd just left.

Even if he'd known that shortly afterwards the demon would be lying on the floor of its apartment in a pool of its own blood, he probably wouldn't have stopped.

Xander Harris was in a very dark place.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 7**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

My, my, that _was_ dark wasn't it?

This was not actually my first try at writing this chapter. The first draft I thought I was pretty happy with, but after getting a few more chapters roughly written, when I came back to it I was appalled by the lack of continuity, and knew something needed to be done.

This wouldn't have been a problem, if it hadn't been Wednesday night – two days before posting!

I really hope this worked, and it's continuing to keep you entertained.

Next week…

Well, more will happen. 'Nuff said.

Cya Friday.

**Punster-Zero**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**Author's Note :  
**I just want to mention that, adding together all the reviews from both and TtH, the total reviews for this fic have now broken a hundred. I am _so _happy! ;D

And for the reason for the late post, see my profile.

**xXx**

**Chapter 8**

**xXx**

Getting back into the base was obscenely easy, and a dark smirk twisted his lips at the stupidity he beheld.

With all the training he'd been put through he could've easily bypassed the main gate altogether, but it was wiser to do things by the book whenever possible. This being Sunnydale and all, most of the night guards tended to have twitchy trigger fingers, even if they didn't fully understand why.

So to find the guard at the main gate asleep at his post, was a surprise.

Xander stared in shock at the fool. Dead fool, if it'd been a vampire that found him.

Though bullets didn't really affect vampires, only slowing them down and damaging their clothing, it didn't mean they could ignore certain unwritten laws that the underworld tried to 'live' by, in that you didn't attack high profile targets – Angel and Drusilla's plan with the Judge notwithstanding. But that didn't mean they wouldn't take advantage of a free meal if given half a chance.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Xander made sure to thump the window as he passed, and only partially hid his amusement as the man started so badly he fell out of his seat.

Walking in, he shook his head, thoughts briefly pulled into the possible ramifications for such a breach of conduct. When Mac heard about this, and Xander would make sure he did, the information would spread through the base like wildfire.

That guard was in for some serious flack, and he had no-one to blame but himself.

Pausing briefly to ask directions of a passing soldier, he headed off towards the other side of the base where his two mentors were stationed that night, but as he walked along the paths he felt his amusement dwindle and his thoughts sink back into the dark depths that had been swallowing him lately. Again the events replayed in his head, and his mood darkened further.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

The cry froze him in his tracks. Even if the voice was familiar, he had been versed enough in military law to know that they wouldn't show him any slack if he didn't give the correct reply.

"Ramshorn."

"You may approach."

Reaching his side, he saw the smile on the man's face. "You're lucky you remembered, if you hadn't I've got a pistol loaded with rubber bullets to remind you." The smile disappeared. "So do you have them?"

Xander didn't bother to answer, just hefted the bag and passed it across. Mac glanced inside, before sending Xander a piercing stare. "So how exactly did it go?"

"I did the job, as told to."

"And the demon?"

Xander's hands clenched, but he refrained from snarling. "Still alive. At least, it was when I left."

"Hmmm." Mac eyed him closely, but didn't say anything further on the subject.

"Okay, you completed your task. Well done. Now I need you to do something else." Xander's eyes lit up, and his eager grin positively yearned for bloodshed, making Mac all the more sure that he was doing the right thing. "Sorry kid, no. No vampires, no demons, no monsters. Not this time. I need you to take a break."

"A break? Why? I'm doing fine. Killing vampires, doing missions, following orders… isn't that what you trained me to do?" His tone was reasonable, his face guarded.

"Your training is to make you more useful, more productive in a fight. Not to turn you into a killing machine. You seem to have lost sight of that, as well as the reason you started this in the first place. Until you get your clarity back, I don't want to see you again."

"Wait one fucking moment here! I…"

Xander's response was abruptly cut off as Mac grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the wall. So shocked was he by the attack, he didn't even try to react.

"If either myself or Tank sees you around town, trying to patrol on your own, we're going to pound seven shades of shit out of you. Consider this a holiday, even if you don't want one."

"But what about…" Xander ground out, motioning at the bag.

A light smirk. "We don't need you for the translating. As you once said, research really isn't your thing." Mac paused, then slowly released his grip. Stepping back, he let his gaze rake over his student. "It's clear to us, both of us, that you're not dealing with what you did. You're not even trying to. Until you've reached some kind of closure, you're worse than useless. And the only way you're going to get that, is being with your friends. You need to see their life, their… happiness. You need a reminder that not everything's turned to shit.

"For both our sakes, I hope you get your head sorted out. Otherwise… been nice knowing ya, kid."

And with a shove, Xander was outside the guard station, alone in the dark.

**xXx**

Standing before the school, he'd had a brief panic attack. For some reason, the thought of re-entering had his nerves jangling and terrified him beyond all reason. But he'd worked his way through it, and had pushed past his fears. The first time he saw a familiar shock of red hair, he felt like his heart had stopped. Luckily, she had been facing away from him at the time and noticed nothing, though he wasn't sure of the blonde she'd been talking with.

He'd staggered his way through classes, still overwrought, and had taken nothing in, but as the day progressed he found his anxiety ebbing, though it never left completely. Entering the library was hard, very hard, as it brought to the fore the memory of walking in only a few days before, and finding _her _still alive, yet even that wasn't too great a challenge.

The greatest challenge was discovering that, though it had been their choice, and they had been more than willing to make it for him, they had missed his presence. It was nothing they said, more it was their body language. Even Cordy had seemed slightly pleased to see him, though she had been just as big a bitch as ever – for once though, he didn't care. Even if it was momentary, he was back with the people he cared most about.

Yet it didn't stop him from slipping from time to time into a brood. Everything he'd gone through, not just with Vampire-Willow but also with everything that he'd been forced to do while on the outs, it had changed him. No longer could he come up with quips on the spur of the moment, no longer could he grin inanely while being insulted by all and sundry – though only Cordy was honest about it. Most did it thoughtlessly, not intending to give offence, even Willow did it on occasion. Before he'd been able to shrug it off as playful jabbing, but no longer.

It hurt that they saw him so poorly, though he knew it was his own fault.

He couldn't help but notice they were continuing with their efforts to keep him separate from the fighting, as well as keep him out of the loop as much as possible regarding the Mayor's plans. Yet for all of that, he found himself being included far more than he had been for months – it was almost as if their friendship had reverted to an earlier state.

He was bemused by their almost eager desire to include him in the petty and useless details of their everyday lives. Gossip, homework, _boys_… they discussed all with him, to the point where he wanted to scream with frustration. As much as he liked that they were willing to share so much with him, he felt enraged that nothing more important was ever revealed.

After a few days the sharing went back to more comfortable levels, and he was able to relax a little; but nowhere near as much as he wished to. He'd tried going back to see Bryce and Tank at the base, but was stopped at the gate. They had left clear instructions with the guards that Xander wasn't to be let near them until they gave the go ahead and, as much as the few guards he'd befriended had commiserated, they had been firm. He was still on the outs.

What was worse, was the one and only time he tried to go hunting someone shot him. He'd woken up the morning after naked and in a crypt, though surrounded by crosses, and with a note on his chest with only one word written on it – _Don't_. So he knew they were indeed keeping an eye on him.

But all of it left him feeling adrift. For so long, months, he'd known exactly what he was doing, where he was going. He knew his aims, his goals. He knew what he was striving for. But until things went back to normal, all he could do was stew.

If it hadn't been for the late night study session at the library, he might have done something he'd regret.

While they didn't want him involved in any of their nocturnal activities, they still needed to do research into the various leads they managed to drum up, flimsy as they were. Though researching, reading through the assorted books Giles had for that one vital bit on information was definitely not his strong suit, they had still asked for his help, albeit reluctantly. In the case of a world-ending event, they needed all the help they could get; even his.

Through independent sources they had discovered that Wilkins was planning something called an 'Ascension' – at which point he thanked his mentors silently for teaching him the self-control that let him keep his face blank – and that they needed to go through Giles' entire library, since the man was sure he'd come across a reference to it at some point.

Things seemed to be settling down, and Xander had found himself being lost in his dark moods less and less often – though occasionally he backslid – and he hoped that soon he'd be able to get back to training.

Naturally, that was when things went wrong.

He'd been in the library, looking through a small mountain of books like usual, when Buffy had come in complaining about a cowardly demon that had run away after she'd killed its partner. He'd made little import of it, other than to consider passing on the intel to Mac's voice-mail. It wasn't until the day after that he found out the terrible news.

That specific breed of demon had the ability to infect its enemies with its blood, giving them an 'aspect of the demon.' There had been a worry that she might sprout horns or a tail, and she'd been slightly freaked out at the thought, but what she got in the end gave Xander the creeping-horrors.

She was able to read minds.

With a little warning, he might have been able to avoid what happened.

He'd been sitting at the table, listening with half a mind to the others chatting about mindless matters about various people at school, when Buffy had sauntered in and taken a seat. He'd thought nothing of it, too busy watching Willow and Oz interact. His mind, unbidden, had flitted back to the horror of that moment, as he'd kissed her sweet dead lips… as he rammed a stake into her dead heart.

Though the pain had lessened somewhat seeing her alive and well, he'd still had occasional flashes of the confrontation that sent him into foul tempers. Having to watch her with her boyfriend was an exquisite agony, but one that he'd been willing to live with, if it meant she still lived.

But it wasn't until Giles had hemmed and, pausing briefly to clean his glasses, gone into a long and tedious explanation into what 'aspect' she had received, that he'd felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. He'd frozen, horrified, yet found his eyes drawn inexorably to Buffy's face. To her gaze. To the aghast look that bathed her features, that filled her.

She knew.

Shaking, he'd fled the room, ignoring the confused cries that arose from his leaving, knowing only that he had to get away. Away from them, away from her. Of all the things he'd done, the one secret he would have willingly taken to his grave was now known, and he'd doubted greatly she would be able to keep her mouth shut. Which meant soon they all would know.

Soon Willow would know.

All the tension that the past few days had eased, suddenly returned with a vengeance. The thought of sitting in class was intolerable, and not just because Buffy knew. As they say, the hardest thing to not think about is your deepest, darkest secret. If he spent any time at all around Buff, it was all too likely she'd hear something else, something worse; and he couldn't take that chance.

Quickly, he pushed through the doors leading outside and began moving swiftly towards town, away from school, only to be brought to an abrupt halt as a slim and petite hand gripped his wrist in a vice of steel.

He knew who it belonged to, yet found himself having to force his gaze to travel up the arm to the familiar face of Buffy Summers, with an unfamiliar look of seriousness marking it. Standing behind her, pale yet just as serious, was Giles; and from the look on his face, she'd already given him the gist of things in the race to catch him.

"Xander, just now… in the library, I saw… I… you…" If he hadn't been so terrified at the time, he would have found it amusing, the way she stammered over her sentences, but all he wanted was to get away. But her grip was firm. "Why… why didn't you tell us? Hell, what were you _thinking?_"

That jolted him, and a small spark of anger fanned to life in his chest.

"Xander, she was a _vampire!_ You know you can't face them alone, you should have come to get me, or Giles. You should _not _have tried to take her yourself. You could have _died!_"

The anger spread, and grew, and quickly consumed any lingering fear he had of a confrontation with someone who could bench-press a small car.

"Damn it Xander, we're a team, and as a team you shouldn't go off half-cocked, it could have…"

"_Shut the fuck up!_"

His yell, as much as the obscenity, silenced her completely, leaving her to gape at him soundlessly. But he'd barely begun.

"Why didn't I tell you? _Why didn't I tell you? _You _dare _ask that? You fucking people push me out, shunt me off to the sidelines, and you _dare _judge me? Even if I wanted to tell you, how would I have done it? I never see you anymore, until the past week you've barely spoken to me, let alone told _me _anything!" He was enraged, ranting at her, overriding her every time she tried to interject, finally releasing the bile that had been festering within him for so long.

"You say you want to protect me, keep me safe… Buffy, this is the Hellmouth, half the nasties in town know I'm your friend and, since you dumped me to the gutter, I've had more than one attempt on my life. All your actions have been to salve your own conscience – at the expense of mine and I've had it! You say I'm useless, but whose fault is that? You could have taught me something, hell, you could've got _Giles_ to teach me something, some way to defend myself when fighting.

"Did you? 'Course you fucking didn't, 'cause I'm only human, which makes me useless. Going up against her coulda killed me? What makes you think I had a choice? _It was Willow_."

He broke off, overcome and unable to speak. He could only prowl back and forth in front of her pale form, trying to let the words out. When they came, his tone was level, normal, yet no less biting.

"You say we are a team, but we haven't been a team for months, and that was your choice. Ever since the fluke you've all been treating me like a leper, like I was the only one there, the only one at fault. You wanted me _gone_, Buff, so I was gone. You can't complain when your dumb, fucking reasoning almost gets me killed."

Suddenly tired, he stopped speaking and simply glared wearily at her, making her shrink back.

"You want to know why I didn't tell you what I did? Fine. How was I supposed to? How exactly would you have reacted, knowing that I'd done that to Willow. For that matter, what would _Willow's_ reaction have been?"

He felt drained. All the emotions had left him, leaving him empty, and he looked upon her with resignation, untouched by the tears shining in her eyes or the look of horror on Giles' face. His mind was blank, and he'd turned away, making to leave, when a rusty voice piped up behind him.

"But… what about Angel? He said… I mean, he told us _he'd _been the one to deal with her. How…" Even though grief filled her voice, a note of command was still clear.

A mirthless smile graced his features as he half-turned his head to look at them.

"I needed somebody I could trust to talk to about it, somebody who wouldn't just go running to you. And as much as I don't like him, he's honourable enough to keep a confidence. As for the lie, I asked him to tell it. It was important you knew the threat was gone. You shouldn't be angry at him for what he did, though I doubt you'll listen to me."

He hesitated then, unsure whether to continue, then decided the whole truth was best.

"I do think it's telling, though, that when there was an evil doppelganger of my best friend roaming the streets, not one person even thought to warn me. It really shows exactly how much you truly care about my safety."

Finally done he walked away, leaving a stunned slayer and her watcher in his wake.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 8**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

Dun, dun, dun! The big reveal! Or at least, some of it.

I found this chapter quite a challenge to write, having to redo it three, four, even five times before I eventually settled on this. Even so, I'm not sure if it entirely works. Alas, I ran out of time. If I wanted to be able to get it betaed before Friday, I had to leave it as is.

And ten points to anyone who recognised the password :)

I really hope you like it.

Next chapter, next Friday. See you then.

**Punster-Zero**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**xXx**

**Chapter 9**

**xXx**

The gasp was what caught Tank's attention, bringing his gaze to Mac's face. A face that was rapidly draining of all colour. Even as Tank watched, he leaned back in his chair, never letting his eyes leave the page he had just read.

"Find something?"

Not softly spoken, yet the words made Mac flinch. Glancing over at his concerned friend, he nodded sombrely. Instead of just telling him however, he slid the book across the table and let Tank read the passage for himself. The sudden intake of breath confirmed when he reached the pertinent facts.

Research into the Books of Ascension had gone slowly, since they had needed to be translated before reading, but with some of the contacts the two men had it hadn't taken them too long. What really slowed them down was being forced to read through reams of boring text, looking for the one piece of vital information hidden within the pages. And now they had found it, and there were two outcomes.

On the plus side, they now knew what the Mayor was up to; on the negative, they now knew what the Mayor was up to.

He was planning, and had been for a very long time if the requirements for the ritual were to be believed, to turn himself into a true demon, the likes of which hadn't been seen walking the Earth in eons. Using the blackest of magics from the darkest of rituals, his physical body would be changed into one of the many different forms that the ancient demons had. Information on the forms themselves was sketchy at best, with only the barest of data given, but one fact was agreed on by all.

They were all huge beyond belief.

If that wasn't bad enough, if his plans were as advanced as Mac suspected then at the current time he was completely invulnerable to harm. Completely unkillable. Luckily, immediately after the transformation this was no longer true – yet if his form was to turn out to be the two hundred foot flying wyrm, one of the many possible outcomes, it wouldn't matter.

Everyone would be dead long before they figured out how to kill him.

The books were useful, no mistake about that, but they didn't have everything. In particular, they didn't give any intel on _exactly_ what the Mayor was preparing – and to get that, Mac was going to have to do something very dangerous, something that could very easily get him killed, but he could see no other option. Beckoning to Tank to move closer, they put their heads together and began to plan.

It was a pity Xander wasn't back yet from his enforced holiday, but it couldn't be helped. Until things were squared with his friends, the kid was more likely to hinder than help.

Mac only hoped Xander would forgive him, when he returned.

**xXx**

Xander paused, hesitating on the threshold as he reached the library. The words he'd cried to Buffy that night seemed to be burned into his mind – as was the expression on her face. He wasn't looking forward to seeing them again, and the awkwardness that would be part and parcel _with _the seeing; yet it wasn't as if he could just run away.

It wasn't the kind of man he was, not anymore.

It was strange, he mused, but ever since he'd blown up at the slayer, all the rage and hate that had been filling his gut seemed to drain away, leaving him empty. Not that he was happy, just no longer consumed with anger. It was a strange feeling, since he'd been living with those feelings for so long they had become almost part of him, and now there was a gaping hole where they had been.

He'd even noticed that the overwhelming guilt and agony he felt at the occasional flash of Willow's body disintegrating in his arms was lessening, and he couldn't understand it.

But that wasn't why he was there. He had a purpose, and he would complete it, no matter what.

Letting his breath hiss out he squared his shoulders, then pushed through the doors, to find the first person he laid eyes on was a pale Buffy Summers who, upon seeing him, paled even more. Sitting next to her as usual was Willow, who started to ask what was wrong when she too realised he'd arrived. He felt a trembling run through his body as the girl he loved slowly rose to her feet, eyes widening. Here it came, the moment he was dreading.

"Xander! What's going on? Where have you been?"

He froze. The puzzlement and frustration in her voice spoke only of her usual feelings for him, a complete lack of anything else was clear. His gaze dragged to Buffy's, and he felt his breath catch at her ever so slight headshake – she hadn't told. Willow didn't know. His mind went blank, as he tried to cope with the impossibility of Buffy keeping secrets from her best friend, and any chance of thinking of a convincing lie went out the window.

It was lucky he wasn't alone.

"Ah, Willow?" An older voice broke into the staring match the two had fallen into, and the redhead's attention was dragged to Giles' face, letting Xander sag with relief, "Before, when Xander left the library and we went after him, there was a… confrontation, and certain harsh truths were brought to light. Apparently, in our quest to protect Xander from the dangers we face, we have just put him in… far more peril."

"W.. What?!" Her shocked cry was seemingly torn from her throat, as the colour bled from her face. Giles only nodded gravely.

"When Buffy and he spoke, there were… heated words exchanged," he paused, and glanced at Xander himself, before looking away quickly. Xander couldn't help but smirk at the shame that briefly flitted over the man's face, "and in his anger, Xander let certain things slip. After we… pushed him out, we thought his life would go back to normal. We never considered…"

He trailed off again. Xander thought he could see where this was going, and wanted to interrupt to get it over with, but felt it might not be a good idea; after all, he might not be the only one needing to get something off his chest.

He watched them, feeling like an observer outside his body, as Giles cleaned his glasses furiously and explained haltingly about the attempts on Xander's life, and how dangerous it was for him to be alone in Sunnydale now, after all that had happened. What surprised Xander, was that Giles didn't stop there. He went on to describe his, Giles', failings as a watcher and as a human being by not giving Xander the kind of training he'd deserved, he'd needed.

Xander was shocked at the depths to which Giles was going, all the time dodging round the biggest issue, but couldn't stop a frission of unease running up his spine. If he was reading Giles right, then any moment now he'd turn, and…

"Xander? How would you like to begin training under myself, learning those things I should have taught you before, learning how to take care of yourself?"

Xander groaned. _Oh shit._

When he'd said it, it had been more to hurt them than anything else, but his careless words were now coming back to haunt him. Not only could he not accept, he had to find a way to decline without making them even more suspicious of him. He was frantically wracking his brains trying to find the solution, when a stopgap measure presented itself.

His phone rang.

Ignoring the shock on their faces at him owning the device, he accepted the call.

"Kid," Tank's gravely voice came over clearly, "you need to come in. We need to talk."

Then the line went dead.

Looking up at his friends, Xander let a lopsided grin appear, and said, "Much as I'd like to stick around at this awkward moment, I have to be somewhere. So I'll catch you all later. Happy hunting Buff."

His final words were left echoing in the air as he ran from the room, leaving three very stunned people behind.

**xXx**

Arriving at the base, he found that word had preceded him as the gate guard merely waved him through, unlike the last time. It was the work of a matter of minutes before he found himself ushered into the small guard hut where the two men had spent so much of their time, his brow crinkling with confusion at the single figure motioning at him to take one of the chairs.

"So what's the what?" Xander bypassed the customary greeting, still a bit sore from his poor treatment over the past week, choosing to rely on humour and sarcasm, "I was pretty sure you didn't want to see me at the mo. So what's changed?"

Tank stared at him, not saying anything, just letting the silence drag on. Xander frowned, then realised what the other's body language had been screaming at him, and stiffened in his seat.

"What is it?"

This time the words were far more precise, as well as businesslike. Sore feelings aside, Xander was well aware when it was time to act like a kid, and when to be a soldier.

"Firstly, you won't be seeing Bryce for a time. He's taken a leave of absence and gone to speak to some of his contacts throughout the town, some of his more… unique contacts." Xander sat up straight at that. Considering the dangers lurking in the shadows, for Mac to feel that this warranted his personal attention it must be very serious.

"Secondly, the reason he's had to go, is because we've discovered some information from the books you got. We know what the Mayor is up to."

A slight inhalation was all the outward sign that Xander heard, but as he leaned forward his posture betrayed his eagerness to learn.

Instead, Tank passed over a file to the young man. Gesturing at it he said, "In there are the translations we completed on the text in question, read it and you'll understand."

He stopped talking, but Xander's attention was already focussed on the few sparse pages before him. An occasional sound of dismay could be heard as he hit certain pertinent facts, but it wasn't until a shocked gasp was forced from his lungs, that Tank knew he'd reached the important part.

Meeting Xander's disbelieving eyes, he nodded sombrely, waiting for a reaction. A moment later, he had one.

"Well!" The chair creaked in protest as Xander slumped in his seat, "At least there's one thing you can say about Mayor Wilkins – he certainly thinks big!"

The sarcasm was understandable, especially after such a shock. Xander hadn't even been aware it was _possible_ to turn yourself into a demon, nor that the things that they fought, both the Scoobies as well as he and his mentors, were not actually true demons. They were actually bastardised versions of the nightmarish creatures that had roamed the Earth long before dinosaurs had existed.

If he didn't have such an aversion to the thought, it might have been enough to drive him to drink.

Shaking it off, he stared Tank in the eye, and asked in a voice filled with determination, "So what do you need me to do?"

"We have a number of possible leads, but first thing to do is…" Tank was cut off as the shrill sound of a mobile phone going off filled the air. Both checked their handsets, but only Tank answered; Xander merely sat back and pondered what he had just learned, waiting for the call to be finished.

"Xander." His head snapped up at his name, "That was Bryce, he got his hands on some information. The Mayor is due to receive a package that has a direct impact on whether or not he succeeds – you have to retrieve it first."

"Okay. How much time do I have?"

"None." He shrugged at the sharp look Xander sent him, "Apparently the courier will be landing any moment. We need you to get to the airport and try to intercept it, but there's a good chance you'll be heavily outnumbered. If so, don't attempt anything, just follow them and try to discover where the package is being held. We'll work from there."

"Understood." Xander stood, and Tank mirrored him, "I'll do my best not to let either of you down." That said, Xander turned and left, rushing home to get the supplies he'd need if he was indeed about to go to war.

**xXx**

Getting to the airport was easy, getting inside was a little tricky but no hardship. Not allowing any of the vampires lurking in the shadows around the airfield to get the drop on him was a slightly harder challenge. As the latest dissolved into dust, Xander cocked an ear to find out if any of the other sentries had heard their comrade's death, but caught nothing. Relaxing slightly, he started to move towards the hangar once more, only to stop as the sound of a motor revving down reached him.

Glancing over, he cursed silently as he realised the vamps had delayed him more than he'd thought, as the plane had already landed. Keeping to the shadows, he tried to quicken his movements while keeping unseen, all the time keeping his senses trained on the plane on the tarmac. When the hatch opened and a man climbed out with a large box, Xander was still a good twenty feet from a potential ambush point, and he tried to get into position.

The man held the box tightly as he approached the nearby limo, and looked like he was having an argument with the vampire driver. Knowing his chance had come, Xander was about to attack when the unexpected happened.

An arrow sprouted from the shocked man's back, and he slowly collapsed to the ground.

Kicking himself for his oversight, he swiftly scanned the nearby rooftops for the sniper, feeling a chill run down his spine as a familiar form flowed into view.

Faith.

Watching her saunter over to the unmoving body, he cursed again. Against vampires or demons he knew he had a shot. Against Faith, outfitted as he was – not a chance. Not to mention he had a good ten to fifteen feet separating them, more than enough time for her to sense him coming and put him down. Most likely with the wicked looking bow she was holding.

Forced into the role of observer, he watched as they searched the corpse for a key to the handcuffs linking him to the package, only to come up dry. It wasn't until he saw the dark grin on her face as she drew a razor sharp knife, that he knew what she was planning. And as the sound of metal cutting through bone filled the air, he forced himself to watch, knowing that to win he'd have to be as hard as her.

Finally it was over and she and the vamp driver got into the vehicle and left, leaving two unmoving bodies behind, only one still breathing.

**xXx**

Surprisingly, when he returned to base he wasn't chewed out for the failure. Instead it was shrugged off as a minor FUBAR, and they moved to Plan B – break into the Mayor's office and steal the package. It was clear as the conversation progressed, that this had always been an option, and a strategy thought out; it all went so fast that Xander had barely enough time to hit the head before they were hustling out the door.

The drive to the Mayor's office went in silence with both men lost in their own thoughts, yet when they arrived things had gone sideways fast. The doors to the front entrance burst open and Buffy and Angel exploded through them, bowling over those vampires in their way, and escaping into the night. All the time, carrying the very box that they, Tank and Xander, had come to collect.

Sitting in the vehicle, watching absentmindedly as the building began to resemble a kicked hornet's nest, they exchanged bemused looks. It was clear that in their haste to prevent the Mayor's plans, they had forgotten to take into account that they wouldn't have been the only ones to hear about the delivery. Obviously word had reached the Scoobies, and they had taken their own preventative steps, managing to pre-empt the so-called professionals.

"I guess I should've stuck around in the library after all." Xander said conversationally, as if talking about the weather. Tank only nodded in reply, though a twinkle in his eye showed his own amusement at the events they had beheld.

"Maybe you should head back now, in any case." Tank stated, "If that package is as important to the Mayor's plans as we think, he's unlikely to take this lying down. You should be on hand if anything goes down."

Quickly seeing the logic, Xander nodded, and with a course of action decided, Tank started the car.

**xXx**

Walking through the library doors, Xander waved at the group gathered within, noting with interest that everyone was there. Buffy, Giles, Oz, Cordelia, Angel, even Wesley, the whole gang… He stiffened. There was one missing.

Where was Willow?

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 9**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

I'm a bad, bad, bad, bad… bad man. :)

Now I realise that I've rehashed some of what was said in the previous chapter, but it was needed for the person who wasn't there – though I made sure to try to keep it to the bare minimum.

Some slight changes from canon here, but mostly pretty close. Next chapter though… there will be a change, and I hope you'll enjoy it.

Another big thank you for all the wonderful reviews last chapter received, I hope I continue to please.

Well, see you next Friday.

**Punster-Zero**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**Author's Note :  
**I suddenly realised something as I wrote this chapter – I accidentally deleted the scene where Buffy got her mind-reading powers removed. To put it simply, it's gone and she has returned to normal. Sorry it happened, and I promise to correct the slight at some point.

On with the story.

**xXx**

**Chapter 10**

**xXx**

Apprehensive, but not wanting to appear so, Xander ambled over towards where the rest were clustered near the central tables. As he approached he noticed a very familiar black box nearby, and had to fight to hold in the smirk.

"So guys," he started, "what's going on? We planning a party?"

No-one answered, though he noted with interest the number of disgusted looks sent his way. Cordelia he could understand, but Wesley? His bad feeling deepened, and he had to fight to keep the mask in place. Seeing as they were continuing to ignore the danger not filling him in could cause, he settled down to study the group in the hopes he'd be able to reach his own conclusions to their behaviour.

That they were worried was clear, yet the reason was not. Each person was showing elevated signs of stress, but it wasn't until his gaze fell on Oz did he realise the truth.

The werewolf was practically vibrating in his seat.

Normally Oz was the most laid back and relaxed person Xander had ever seen, but now his shoulders were tense, his breathing heavy, and his fingers were clenched white where they dug into the wood of the chair. All the points led to one obvious and unpleasant conclusion.

Something had happened to Willow.

Xander felt his own share of panic well up, but ruthlessly forced it back. If the news was of her death, the reactions in the room would have been far different. Since it was anxiety he felt filling the room and not grief, he was relieved. The possible options on what _exactly _could have occurred were seriously lessened when the actions of Buffy and Angel were taken into account. Really, if you added up all the facts, only one possibility remained.

The Mayor had her.

The thoughts of what could have happened, be happening, or about to happen to her threatened to overwhelm his mind with dread, but he thrust them away. Letting his fears take control wouldn't help anyone, and could only hurt Willow – besides, Xander knew there was at least one person in the room who would give him a straight answer.

Casting a disgusted glare at the rest of the gang, he strode over to where the werewolf was sitting and planted himself in front of the man. Before the disbelieving eyes of everyone else, he stated calmly and clearly, "Since the others are once again not giving a shit about how this might be affecting me, could you please explain how the fuck the Mayor got his hands on Willow?"

The spluttered gasps at his language and the winces of dismay at his seeing through their ploy, he ignored, only interested in the suddenly dangerous-looking guitarist's reply.

"Mayor had a delivery, that black box," motioning at the object of discussion sitting on the table, "it's vital to his plans. Buffy and Angel stole it. Willow got captured. Mayor says we give it back or he starts sending body parts. Replacement watcher wants to destroy it." This last was said with molten rage directed at the useless Brit.

Though his speech was even more taciturn than usual, Xander understood the gist of it – especially the raw and seething hatred Oz was feeling toward Wesley at that moment. If her life weren't at stake, the little prick would be a bloodstain on the floor for saying something so terrible; though Xander wasn't sure who would've been at fault, he or Oz.

Pulling himself together, he rounded on the others, who instinctively flinched back from his expression.

"So," He began, a wide smile appearing on his face, though his eyes remained dark, "when exactly were you going to tell me, hmm? You know, that my best friend was in terrible danger – _again_ – because of your bad fucking planning? Please, I want to know."

He glanced back and forth between the slayer and her watcher, and each time one opened their mouth his gaze would fall on them, and nothing emerged. Satisfied, he continued, "I find it kinda amusing that after all the penitence you showed when you offered to train me in fighting, it completely disappeared the moment trouble reared its head. That even though you intimated that you'd stop pushing me aside, here you are, doing it again."

Giles had at least the decency to redden at the reprimand, but Buffy…

"Damn it Xander, we're trying to protect you! You're our friend and we love you, and we don't want to see you get hurt! Why can't you _see _that?"

Xander couldn't help but blink at the honest confusion in her voice. She truly didn't understand, even after everything he'd said. It was clear he needed to use smaller words.

"So, to use your reasoning, because I'm your friend and because you care for me so much, you decided that the best thing for me was to be pushed out of the group, and left to fend for myself on my own? While others that… you…" He trailed off, eyes widening as epiphany struck.

"Is that it?" He questioned out loud, unable to believe what had occurred, "Is that the reason?"

His anger began to ebb as his mind grappled with unfamiliar concepts. Not everything the he had been taught was about developing the body; some had been about reworking the way he thought.

"I… I'm going to say something now and I don't want to be interrupted, understood?" His focus elsewhere he didn't pay even the slightest bit of attention to them, or their response, just ploughed forward, letting the words spill from his lips.

"We… ah, for the past few years, we've been working together, fighting against the demons and vampires that the Hellmouth attracts, and for the longest time it was just the three of us: you, Willow and me." Clearly for the time being at least, the spotlight was squarely placed on Buffy, and the expression of deer-in-the-headlights she gained showed her dislike of the fact. "But as time passed our numbers grew and we gained a couple of new members, yet it still stayed quite a small and select group – and we all continued to pull our own weight.

"But then something changed."

His voice grew colder, and Buffy squirmed under his glare.

"I found myself being pushed away, shoved out of the fighting, without reason or excuse given for the behaviour. When you do finally open up and tell me why, you only say it's because I'm the weakest link, and must be protected from the fighting.

"And until now, I never knew why."

Despite themselves, his spellbound audience leaned in, eager to hear his answer; even Buffy showing a glimmer of interest. A grin blossomed on his face – partnered with the coldness that never left him, it was like looking into the mouth of a shark.

"It's all because of the way Buffy looks at the world; it's because of the rose-tinted glasses that cloud her judgement."

"I have to stop you there, Xander," Giles spoke up, motioning to Buffy to hold her tongue which she did, though with a pout, as he fixed the young man before him with a sympathetic gaze, "I'm afraid you're seeing things poorly through your own anger at the deed, and not understanding the bigger picture. Buffy did what she did because it was the right thing to do, not because of…"

"I asked you," Giles blinked in shock as Xander effortlessly overrode him, "not to interrupt me, as I needed to explain this as the understanding came to me. I would have thought with all the focus you give to manners, you would've been the last to do so – obviously I was wrong. But that doesn't change the fact, _let me tell this my way, or get the fuck out!_"

For the first time in living memory, Giles was left completely speechless and without a word to say. It was not the curse, as he had used worse himself as a teen; it was not even the accusations, painful as they were – the shock came from having Xander be the one to cast them in his teeth. And what was worse, Xander was right.

Seeing that he had put the older man in his place, Xander brought his icy gaze back to Buffy, who shrank back as he picked up from where he'd left off.

"Buffy, being the Slayer, has been trained to have a certain mentality about the whole fighting evil thing. Normals are sheep to be protected, and supernaturals are either evil, and must be destroyed, or allies to have at her back. It simply took her a while to classify us as one or the other.

"Firstly, we have Giles." His interest shifting to the man, Xander pressed on, "Now by any standard you have no supernatural ability to let you stand out from the crowd, or the flock as the case may be, but you had a few advantages that the rest of us didn't. Not only were you an adult, but also you were the only grown man to know about her life and to give her some boundaries on her life, something she had been lacking. In short you became a father-figure to her, and so were exempt from her machinations."

He paused, and the coldness receded slightly as he considered what to say on the next person.

"Then there's… Willow. Her physical strength is nil, and the same goes for her fighting abilities. Never had any training, and unlikely to ever receive any. And yet Buffy sees her as a valid member of the group. Why? Simple, _because she is a witch_. She has a supernatural ability that could prove incredibly useful at some stage; even if all she can do right now is levitate a pencil."

He broke off, unable to control the shaking in his voice, as fresh images of the possible things she could be suffering at that moment, and his head bowed as grief threatened to unman him. This time, no-one spoke up, they simply sat and allowed him to regain his equilibrium.

They waited in silence until his breathing evened out and he raised his head. A barely formed snarl twitched at the corners of his mouth, and Buffy suddenly got a very familiar tingle that usually only appeared when something nasty was nearby. Yet he did nothing, only continued with the explanation.

"Next, there's Oz. Like most of us, he has no real strength to speak of; he's more wiry than anything else. Nothing pulls him out from the crowd, apart from his needing to turn into a ravening monster once a month, a monster with enhanced speed, strength, and senses – not to mention an overwhelming hunger." A grin sent at the werewolf got a slight quirk of the lips in response, "But the rest of the month, he's completely normal. He might have a slightly increased sense of smell, and taste, but he's basically another member of the herd. No fighting ability, other than what you pick up in high school."

The thoughts were now streaming through his mind, and he could no longer stand still as they continued to rocket through him, and began to pace back and forth, the Scoobies' eyes following his path hypnotically.

"And now we come to the crux of the matter, myself and Cordelia Chase. Now, how to put this…" his steps grew more frenzied, as did his words, "We're both in pretty good shape, myself from following you around like a puppy all these years, her from her cheerleading duties. Our skill in fighting is pretty much equal as well, in that neither of us can fight our way out of an empty bag.

"Though feel free to disagree if you want." His words seemed to invite response, but his sarcasm-heavy tone told a different story.

"Every member of the group, other than us two, have some kind of advantage from the supernatural world, whether wanted or not, and that is enough to give Buffy – or at least her inner mind – the proof that they deserve to be fighting alongside her.

The fact that two of you are more hindrance than help never seems to strike her.

"But with us, Cordy and me, it's different. Neither of us have any kind of benefits, yet she's allowed to stay, and I have to go. Why is that?"

The nervous tension that had suffused him was gone, and he stood motionless before them. All his doubts and worries had evaporated, leaving behind the core of himself – and as he began to speak once more, in a calm and detached manner, the hackles of those present rose. This person was no longer the jokester prince of Sunnydale High; this was someone else.

"As far as I can tell it's for one reason, and one reason only; I am Buffy's friend and must be protected, while Cordelia… is her rival."

"_My rival?_" Her choked gasp echoed in the stunned room, and her red face and disbelieving stare had her looking none so pretty anymore. The others were just as shocked, but were willing to listen to Xander's supposition – apart from Cordy, who was just interested in seeing Buffy taken down a peg or three.

"Of course, why else do you dislike her so much? She is the head cheerleader, has her own clique of faithful hangers-on, and is at the top of the social ladder; though some of that may have taken a beating recently, it's still true. What she is, and what she has… is everything you were before you were called. She is now what you once loved to be – and I think in your heart of hearts, still yearn to have.

"You're jealous of her and what she has, and wish you had it yourself. Just looking at your attitude towards her, about how you act around her, it's clear. You want to _be _her, and it eats you up."

"Uh, Xander?" Giles stepped in, hoping to divert a confrontation, "What has this to do with your exclusion? I can't see…"

"Damn it Giles! Because of the way Buffy feels towards her, how cut up do you really think she'd be if something fatal happened to Cordy one of the times she joined you on patrol? If Cordy was to die, Buffy would be 'oh bother, she's dead, what a shame! Now who'll play the bait?'"

He sneered at Giles, and smirked at the flush that appeared as the truth hit home.

"Buffy lets Cordelia join in on the patrols and the fighting _not_ because she's a real help, but because she doesn't care what happens to her – the fact that in a fight the chance of something bad happening is quite remote, thanks to all the backup, is irrelevant. Buffy doesn't give a shit about her, and that's the truth.

"And as for me? It's as I said – I'm the friend. The useless one. The one who must be protected at all cost. That your pushing me away puts me in even more danger doesn't matter, as long as I'm not in danger _beside_ you."

He stopped. Saying it out loud, he realised something. Ever since the incident with O'Toole, he'd convinced himself that the reason to fight was to defend his friends. But seeing them like this, he couldn't understand why. It was clear he needed to re-evaluate his priorities, but as he no longer cared what they thought of him, there were a few last bridges to burn.

"Giles, you offered to teach me how to fight, to train me to survive, and before… I was going to say yes. Now…?" his smile seemed to suck the heat out of the air, "Why'd you offer, in the first place? Was it because it was the right thing to do? Or was it because you were feeling guilty? If you were truly repentant, you would have made the same offer to Willow, Oz and Cordelia. But you didn't, did you? Thanks to what I said, you knew that if I had died, the blame would have fallen squarely on your shoulders – yet if it happened _after_ I had some of your 'expert tutelage', then it would've had to have been my own fault, for not trying hard enough.

"I used the words 'sop to your conscience' before, and they still hold true. You're a fucking hypocrite, and the least you could do is admit it.

"I told you before that I was sick of how you've been treating me, and that it had to stop. You agreed, and offered to help me improve. Yet the moment the shit hits the fan you revert back to type, and shut me out. Well this is me telling you I've had enough.

"Either we are all friends, and we work together to stop the forces of evil from overrunning the town, and occasionally save the world from terrible threats. Or you push me out, meaning we're not, and I never speak to you again.

"Either you're my friends, or you're not. Make a decision."

Finally finished, Walker gave the watcher and his pet one last sneer, then left. The library no longer held anything important for him.

He had somewhere to be.

**xXx**

When the doors to the mess swung open few of the soldiers were interested, but as the dark-haired young man moved purposely through the room, conversation slowly died and all eyes were drawn to him. Including Tank's.

Seeing the expression on Xander's face, Tank groaned. The only times Tank ever saw him like that was when Willow was in danger, and he dreaded what might have happened now.

Raising a hand, he forestalled whatever Xander wanted to say, and motioned for him to follow him outside. Only when they were alone and secure, did he allow the kid to speak.

"Tank, Willow's in deep shit and needs our help."

Yup, Willow-trouble.

"So what's happened this time?"

"Well it's like this, Buffy and company heard about the delivery and…" As the tale wound on and the events that had played out were told in plain terms, Tank groaned again at the timing. The good guys managed to get their hands on the vital item that Wilkins needed to succeed, and because they weren't keeping a close enough eye on their allies they were going to have to trade it back.

And that was only if the Mayor kept his side of the bargain.

As he came to a close, Xander watched the contemplative expression on Tank's face. He knew that look, it meant the was a plan forming. He hoped and prayed that it was one where they could get the girl, and _still_ foil the bad guy's plot.

It would really make his day if it did.

"Xander," Tank began, "Knowing you as I do, I expect the only reason you're not already attempting an assault on the Mayor's office to rescue her, is that you're not absolutely sure you'd succeed. So you're here hoping I can make the difference, yes?"

An answering nod from his young charge, and he continued.

"Firstly, I have to say that Mac can't be a part of this. Much as I'd like to call him in, the work he's doing is too vital to put aside even for one night. Besides, if anyone or anything saw him, any chance of undercover work would be destroyed. I'm sorry but that's the way it is.

"But between the two of us, I think we have a good chance at success."

"What makes you say that?"

Xander was curious, and rightly so. Tank only smirked, and elaborated.

"Thanks to some prior checking of the town records, we have the blueprints to the building and, with some judicious guesswork, can figure out the most likely places she might be held. Unfortunately, that will still leave you needing to bypass the guards and any other security measures – which, I might add, you'll need to do quickly and quietly. There's no point getting in and finding her if you can't escape afterwards."

"Up to me? What about you?"

"Oh, I'm not going to be a part of the assault, that's your job. I'll be lending fire-support from outside. Plus, I'll be able to make a nice… distraction, if needed.

"So, what do you think? Can you do it, break into a heavily guarded facility, sneak through it without being seen, and retrieve your friend without either of you dying? Or not?"

The plan was simple, the execution was less so. It all depended on whether or not Xander was up to the challenge, whether his training had been enough.

On if he was ready to take Walker to the next level.

"Yes." The word was softly spoken, yet his resolve was firm. "Yes, I can do it. For her."

"Good." Tank clapped the youngster on the back, then began to walk away. "We're going to need supplies to do this right, so come on."

"Besides," added a suddenly mischievous Xander, "don't you think it's about time the Big Bad met the new player in town? It's time the Mayor had a visit from Walker."

A grin blossomed as Tank heard, and he laughed openly as the two of them headed to the barracks to gear up. It was definitely going to be an interesting night.

**xXx**

Shifting uncomfortably, Xander tugged at the collar of the suit self-consciously. Tank could only grin.

"You really have to stop doing that, it'll interfere with the look."

"You know," said Xander, even his voice laden with embarrassment, "this thing really isn't me. Why can't I wear something else?"

"Because, _me laddie_," Tank said, enjoying himself immensely, "that is a skin-tight body suit as worn by the best-of-the-best, and it's designed to give maximum freedom, with maximum protection. Although it's not as good as body armour, it still has a strengthened weave that'll diffuse the majority of most of the blows you receive, as well as let your body breathe comfortably. An absolute must for S&R missions."

"But I look _stupid_ in it! Can't I wear something else? Or at least have something on over it?"

Though his cries were plaintive, Tank stood resolute.

"Xander, anything worn over it would negate the benefits, and there's nothing else that would help you as much during the op. Besides, it doesn't look that bad."

"But I…"

"Xander, how long have you been in training with us?"

"Ah," His thoughts derailed slightly, it took a moment for Xander to answer, "about two months."

"And how many times have you checked out your new body in the mirror?"

"What do I look like to you, gay?" The typical high school boy's answer made Tank sigh, but he forged ahead.

"Xander, you've been going on multi-mile runs every day, wearing weights on your arms and legs, carrying heavy backpacks to increase your stamina. In short, the body you remember having is not the one you have now. Yes, the suit lets anyone looking to see your body, but," he paused to scan the boy's form critically, "all they'll see is a well built professional. No-one looking at you in that, will see Xander, as I _know_ you still wear those baggy shirts and pants.

"Just let it alone kid, and trust me on this. It'll help you do the job."

Seeing Xander's acceptance, albeit reluctant, Tank moved onto the next item of business.

"For weapons you've got this Glock 18 fitted with a silencer. It's loaded with Vamp-Killers and Armour-Piercing rounds in alternating sequence, two VKs then an AP – just on the off chance you run into anything _other_ than vamps inside. You don't have any spare clips, so you only have the standard twenty rounds – try to make every shot count.

"Lastly, we have this for you." And he handed a confused Xander a small black box on a Velcro strip. "It's a voice-changer. You wrap it around your throat under your mask, and it distorts anything you say. We didn't think you'd want to go through all the trouble of hiding your identity, just to screw it all up because they recognise your voice."

Xander nodded, his face clearing and gratitude plain as he took the device, stowing it alongside the rest of his gear. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Only to remind you not to leave your earpiece behind."

Tank smiled approvingly as Xander tilted his head to show it already in place.

"Then good luck, you're going to need it. I'll be nearby, but if you run into trouble inside I won't be able to help. This time you're on your own."

Grabbing his own gear, Tank left Xander pulling on his last few items. He had his own tasks ahead of him.

**xXx**

Xander froze, not even breathing as footsteps approached the door to the office he'd gained access to. It wasn't until the sound had retreated down the hall that he allowed his breath to escape in a silent rush. Getting in had been difficult, but not too bad. He'd found an emergency exit, but been forced to use a couple of rounds to get past the electronic lock. Luckily nothing had been close enough to hear, otherwise the mission would have been cut fatally short.

Which was good for him, and good for Willow.

Sneaking out into the corridor, he moved on silent feet towards where the nearest stairwell was located, always keeping an ear out for movement. Luckily the place was almost empty, and he was able to move unobserved.

Well, almost.

There _had_ been that one vampire that had turned the corner just as he'd left the room, but the creature's gasp of shock hadn't been loud enough to raise the alarm.

Neither had been the sound of the silencer.

The only good thing about it all, was that Mayor Wilkins only hired vampires to patrol the building after dark. He still wasn't sure he could kill a normal human being, and was thankful he didn't have to find out on such an important mission.

Reaching the second floor, he could feel his heart-rate increasing even as he tried to calm himself. According to what the floor-plans had shown, the best places to stash a body, at least a living one, would be in one of the rooms along here. Unfortunately, there were far more guards to bypass. He managed to sneak past two, but had to terminate another with a silent bullet to the back, right over the heart.

Meaning he was starting to get worried. He'd already used almost half the clip, and he knew there were more guards left than he had rounds for, but he pressed on. He wasn't going to leave Willow in their hands, no matter what.

A muffled thud ahead stopped him in his tracks, and he strained to hear anything more. The cry that followed was enough to convince him of the rightness of the location. Even through walls, he'd recognise that voice anywhere.

Rushing to the door, heedless of the danger he kicked it open and filled the opening, his hands steady as he took in the scene.

A small pile of dust near a window with a solitary pencil buried in it showed Willow had found a use for her magical talents, but the redhead had obviously not taken into account the presence of another guard. Her motionless form lay on the ground, and the vamp loomed over her, his fangs already descending towards her neck. That she was unconscious Xander took in, in a glance. That she was so because this _bastard_ had hit her, was also.

He didn't even remember pulling the trigger, yet the vampire stumbled back as the bullets shredded its skull. As it slumped to the floor, twitching, he rushed to her side. Frantically he checked her pulse, and let out a whoosh of breath as she realised she was alive. Hearing a sound, he noted with a frown that the vamp still lived, and rectified that quickly.

Only to curse as a low whistle sounded from behind him.

"Well fuck me. Here I am, back to pick up a package and what do I find? Another fucking thief." The voice was unmistakeable. Xander swore to himself. Of all the people he could run into, it had to be Faith. "But I'm afraid that that girly belongs to us, or should I say… _me_. So I'm afraid I'm gonna have to fuck you up now, 'cause I really hate people stealing from me."

Straightening, Xander turned around, trying to hide how nervous he was. Thanking god that she wouldn't recognise his voice.

"Faith. The Mayor's pet psycho-killer. How's it hanging? Chopped any hands off lately?"

Whatever response he was looking for, it was not what he got.

"Fuck me indeed." She was licking her lips, and staring at his body with undisguised lust. Only belatedly did he remember that the suit left nothing to the imagination. "How about this, big boy. You agree to come home with me, and I'll promise to at least _try_ to let you leave alive. But even if you do die, I swear you'll die happy."

She ran her fingers down her curves, accentuating what she had, and drawing his traitorous eyes, "I'll even let Red there alone if you do."

Taking a deep breath he steeled his resolve, and gave the girl a short bow.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline your offer," he said, the changer altering his voice to resemble a much more grizzled man, "tempting as it may be, but I prefer not to let diseased mental-ward rejects anywhere near my dick. I'm sure you understand."

The lust was wiped away in an instant, and anger flushed her cheeks, but he wasn't finished.

"Alas, much as I would like to stay and play with you, I have other engagements." His other hand swung up, and she froze as the gun barrel came to rest, aimed at her chest, "Tell your boss Walker says hello."

And then he pulled the trigger.

The click as it fell on an empty chamber filled the room, and shock suffused him, but only for an instant. Then he was slamming into the wall next to the window, making it crack as his elbow hit a pane.

"You fucker! _You fucker!_"

Pushing off the wall, he evaded her first strike but hampered by the furniture was unable to evade the second, and found himself hitting the window itself this time. For a moment he was weightless, as the glass shattered under him and he started to fall through, only to have an iron grip wrap itself round his throat and send him careening to the floor.

"Uh-uh, you're not getting away from me that easily. _Diseased mental-case_ am I? I'm going to hear you _scream_."

She pulled him to his feet, then delivered a devastating blow to his ribs that sent him reeling. If it hadn't been for the suit, he would already have been unconscious. As it was, he could see black spots swimming into his vision, and he knew he had to end this now.

So he laughed.

So surprised was she, she stopped where she was. Propping himself up on his elbows, he said in a pain-laden voice, "You know, I like a workout as much as the next guy, but even I have my limits. So it's time for me to go, and I'm taking her with me."

She gave a bark of her laughter, dark and twisted as it was. "And how the _fuck_ are you going to do that? You can barely stand – you really think you can get past me? So how exactly are you going to do that?"

"Simple. T? _Now._"

Her eyes crinkled in confusion even as he threw himself over Willow's still insensate body, but realisation dawned as a small object sailed through the shattered window.

Too late.

The blast made his eyes burn and his ears ring, even with him covering them the best he could. Raising his head and shaking away the blurred afterimages, he quickly saw to his intense satisfaction that Faith had suffered far worse.

The flash-bang grenade had gone off practically in her face.

Her body was lying on the floor, twitching and convulsing as she clutched at her head and screamed silently. From the blood around her ears there was a good chance her eardrums had burst, and he figured her eyes wouldn't be in much better shape. But he also knew that with slayer healing, she'd be on her feet in no time, and also that the noise would have attracted every guard in the building to this location.

So, regretfully he holstered the gun, and grabbing Willow's body and holding it close to his chest, he only allowed himself a few sharp kicks to the face and stomach of the fallen slayer before he left.

Through the window.

Hitting the ground hurt even more than when Faith had been 'playing' with him, but he was given no time to recover as Tank's hands were suddenly there, pulling Willow away from him and hauling him to his feet.

Staggering wildly, he followed them to the car, and collapsed in the back as Tank floored the pedal and got them the hell out of there.

**xXx**

Dressed once more in his usual clothing, he prodded one last time the already darkening bruise where Faith had punched him, before turning to the closed doors of the library. It wasn't an elegant plan, but there was no time to come up with something better, which was why Xander was standing here, with Willow's body lying at his feet, preparing for the best acting of his young life.

"_Guys! Get out here! It's Willow!_"

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 10**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

Okay, I want to point out that though this chapter is a _wee_ bit longer, that doesn't mean they all will be. I've simply found that action intensive chappies take longer to write, and chopping them up would just destroy the mood I'm trying to set.

I also want to apologise if it seems a bit choppy in places, I had very little time to edit before posting, but figured you'd prefer me to get it up and fix it later, than to spend ages sorting it first.

Quantity over quality. Hope you don't mind.

See you all next Friday.

**Punster-Zero**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Never will be.

**xXx**

**Chapter 11**

**xXx**

Xander waited, but was surprised when there was a distinct lack of response to his cry, so he raised his voice slightly and tried again.

"_GUYS!"_

The force with which the doors swung open made him flinch back, as did the dark and stormy look gracing Buffy's face.

"Xander, if you don't mind we're not really that interested in talking… with… you…"

She trailed off as she finally recognised the still form lying at her feet.

"_Giles! Get out here! It's Willow!_"

In moments the gang had boiled out of the library and, in short order, bundled up Willow's unconscious body and carried it back inside, an anxious and worried Oz holding one of her hands in a death grip while a slightly bemused Xander followed behind, completely unnoticed. Bemused in part at Buffy's reaction to him, and in part by the words she'd used, as they were virtually identical to what he himself had said.

Being ignored was one thing he hadn't missed, but he didn't let the momentary lull fool him; the instant they were assured she was unhurt, he knew he would be besieged with questions.

So when a hand wrapped itself around his arm and he found himself propelled into a chair, it wasn't a shock – though the person who grabbed him wasn't who he was expecting.

"Xander," Giles' tone was cold, his expression forbidding, "do you mind telling me exactly how you found yourself with an unconscious Willow? From your earlier words about us I would've doubted you cared enough about her to worry at her possible demise."

"Giles!" Stunned, Xander felt impelled to respond, "No… but… it's Willow! No matter what happened, I could never…! I came back because I needed to help – I just didn't expect… this."

Recovering himself, he shrugged, a weak grin making its way onto his face. To be honest, it felt strange to act like this again, he hadn't been this person for months, and it was like wearing a shirt two sizes too small. But it was necessary, so he did his best. From Giles' frown however, he wasn't quite pulling it off.

Luckily, there were far more important things at stake, and the issue was shunted to one side.

"So how did you find her?" Giles was once more the consummate professional, trying to gain all the facts. Xander was more than happy to give them – carefully edited of course.

"After I… left, I walked the streets for a time, thinking, but couldn't go home, not when my best friend was in danger. So I came back, only to see some strange guy put Willow down, and then run off."

"Did he say anything?" Giles instantly pounced, his gaze intense.

"Uh, yeah," Xander answered, "he said… he was returning our property, and that we should take better care of our things."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, one thing. Just before he got out of hearing, he called back… Walker – his name was Walker."

Xander had been peripherally aware that others were paying attention to his words, but when his alter ego's name was dropped, he _felt_ every eye snap to him.

"… Walker?" Giles sounded faint, "Are you sure about that?"

"Well, yeah. Why? Is…" He was cut off as Giles suddenly leaned forward, eyes alert.

"_Did you see his face?_"

"… Ah, no. He was wearing a mask." Again, Xander found himself grateful to the foresight of his mentors. "So… is he someone important?"

Xander was surprised to find himself avidly awaiting the answer, needing to know if his efforts so far had been noticed, hoping that the respect _he_ had never gained, was being given to his other life.

"Walker…" Giles paused, then tried again, "Walker is a new demon hunter who has appeared in Sunnydale recently. He's kept mostly under the radar, and has only a number of vampire and demon kills under his belt, but his name is spoken of with…"

A growl from Buffy and his words trailed off.

"He's just a punk who thinks because he's got a few skills, he can waltz into _my _town and start throwing his weight around! His help isn't needed or wanted, but he doesn't get it. We have a slayer, we don't need an amateur."

Xander grimaced. Not the rousing response he'd been hoping for, but knowing what he did about Buffy, that she disliked him so much meant he was doing quite a good job. She did, after all, hate being shown up in any way, even if it was just in her head.

Then again, it didn't mean he couldn't defend himself.

"If he's such an amateur, how'd he manage to rescue Willow from the Mayor then?"

The outraged glare Buffy sent his way had him raising his hands in surrender, "I'm just saying! If he's so crap, how'd he manage to get her out before you?"

"He got lucky! It was only because the Mayor was here that he didn't get his ass handed to him!"

Buffy's answer was full of vitriol, but he didn't care about that. His attention was completely locked on what she had let slip.

"What the fuck do you mean the Mayor was _here_?!"

Ignoring the admonishments about his language, he waited for a reply.

"If you hadn't run off like you did," she spat, "you'd know for yourself. After your _exit_, he showed up with a small army of his goons, and demanded the return of the box. Said that if we didn't hand it over, he'd let the vamps have us. We…"

"What about Willow?" Xander blurted out, cutting her off, "You didn't just _give_ it to him, without…"

"Oh, shut up!"

Xander gaped soundlessly, his mouth moving but nothing emerging. Though he'd heard Giles lose his temper before, he'd never had it directed at him. Suddenly, seeing the anger that seethed beneath the librarian's calm demeanour, he could understand how Giles had earned the name of Ripper.

"We didn't have a choice!" Giles loomed over him, eyes flashing, "Between Wesley's actions and your own, we were outnumbered and outgunned. We couldn't have won if he'd ordered the attack, so we had to trust him to keep his word and leave. That he did was a blessing – that Walker was able to retrieve Miss Rosenberg was a miracle."

Giles stopped and turned away to polish his glasses, the cloth moving furiously over the lenses as he breathed deeply to try to calm himself. Xander meanwhile was working through the facts he'd been given, and realised there were questions needing to be asked. Raising a hand in hesitant enquiry, he was glad when Giles nodded, if brusquely, at him.

"You said you were outnumbered, what sort of numbers are we talking about here?" This was important. According to the Intel that Mac and Tank had gathered, Mayor Wilkins only had a dozen or so vamps under his control, but with the numbers that had been guarding his office, those numbers didn't compute if…

"He had about twenty or so vampires backing him up. Not all were in the library with us, but there were more than enough to deal with a single slayer and a group of normals. After he got the box, he left. Why, we don't know." Giles' answer gave Xander a deep sense of foreboding, yet another question remained.

"Right. You also said something about Wesley. What…?"

"He wanted to destroy the box. When we disagreed, he tried to take it and leave. He was stopped."

The words were soft, yet all went silent as the werewolf spoke. Giles and Buffy exchanged glances, even as Xander gave Oz an appraising look.

"Wesley had been reporting to the Council all our actions against the Mayor," Giles began, his expression troubled, "and when we retrieved the box, he received orders to destroy it at any cost. Willow's life, apparently, was a perfectly reasonable trade. My former employers clearly…"

He halted, and Buffy rested a hand on his arm in an oddly comforting gesture, before taking up the tale.

"The little weasel had told them that we were _unreliable_," she made the word sound like a curse, "so the Council in their infinite wisdom sent one of their teams to watch over us. When we refused Wesley's order, he called them in and they attacked us, trying to take the box by force. I made sure they understood the error of their ways."

From her vicious look, he knew that for once she had unleashed something like her full strength against humans, and no doubt they had found themselves - lacking. Xander was sure that nothing fatal had happened to them, but apart from that…

"So where are they? And where's the Watcher-wannabe?"

"Gone." Buffy said it like stating a fact, but a brief shot of pain crossed her face as she did. "For now they're in the hospital dealing with their injuries, but once they're mobile, they're off back to England. And Wesley's with them."

"Why is that a bad thing?" Xander was honestly curious. It sounded like things had turned out alright in the end, to the point where he was almost sorry he'd missed the fun.

"Because the only way to get the point across about how _bad_ an idea it had been, was to sever all ties to the Council."

"… What?"

Buffy stood there, defiant, with Giles at her back, pale but proud. "If they're willing to risk the people I care about, simply because it's the easy thing to do, then I want nothing to do with them. As of now, we're on our own."

Xander didn't know what to think. On the one hand he fully agreed with the decision, wanting to have caused his own amount of pain to those who threatened Willow, but on the other, not having the Council in their corner anymore meant that they wouldn't be able to call on their help – and with an Ascension about to happen, that might prove very… bad.

As he pondered, he didn't notice how keenly Giles was studying him, how the older man's gaze was cataloguing his physical changes. The questions Xander had asked were too mature for who he was, or had been, and someone trained to observe might realise that something had changed with him. Someone like a Watcher.

But Xander was unaware of that, all he knew was that some momentous decisions had been made, decisions that were going to heavily affect their chances of survival. Pushing himself free of the chair, he started to move towards the table where Willow's body lay, to join Oz in his vigil, only to find a firm hand pressed to his chest. Looking at Giles in surprise, he found a steely glint in the man's eye.

"Not yet Xander, there's one more thing we need to speak about."

Letting the hand guide him back to the seat, he impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for Giles to finish. Yet Giles only stood before him, not even cleaning his glasses, just standing still as he pinned Xander with his gaze.

"The past few times we've seen you, you've said some things to us," Giles began. "Harsh things, unpleasant things, about how poorly we've been treating you. About how unfair it has all been. You spoke of how your manifold weaknesses are because of us, because we didn't train you, teach you, help you. You described Buffy's failings as a person, as well as mine as a Watcher, and when you were done you left with your head held high.

"Well I have a response to that: _Bullshit._"

As he'd spoke, Xander's expression had turned more and more recalcitrant, but at the last word, it was wiped away in shock.

"You said that everyone pulled their own weight, how it was nothing to do with you that you were pushed out. How about this then; _your actions in combat put people at risk more often than not._"

The accusation got a flinch from Xander, but Giles was just hitting his stride, and as he started to explain, his voice rose in strength and condemnation.

"You consistently charged into battle, ignoring Buffy's orders to hang back and help the others, instead you tried to deal with the vampires or demons yourself, never noticing how they were toying with you to lure Buffy away from her support. We almost lost Willow and Cordelia more than once - because of you. You want to know why we were pushing you out? Yes, in part it was because we cared for you and wanted you safe, but it was also because you were such a liability that it was dangerous to allow you to stay!"

"Wait one fucking minute!" Xander cut across, forgetting his role as his patience ran out. "If I was doing so badly, why didn't you just tell me? And you say I was useless as a fighter? So why no training, no pointers, no…"

"_Because you weren't interested!_"

His rant derailed, Xander blinked in shock, having become used to getting the last word.

Giles was in full flow. "You say we should have trained you, but how much interest did you actually _show?_ How many times have you sat in this room and watched me teach Buffy about some weapon or move, and how many times have you shown an interest in learning anything yourself? Never. Not once. It's a two-way street, Xander. I admit that it was a failing of mine not to offer to help you all, but you _never _expressed an interest in hearing about it. You were far more interested in watching Buffy as she worked out."

By then Xander was pale and shaking, and Giles towered over him as he his words washed through the room, making sure _all_ understood the gravity of the situation. Only two people noticed how white Giles' knuckles were, or how much he was straining not to hit something.

But he was not yet finished.

"If you were in trouble you could have come to us. We wanted you, as the girls put it, 'fray-adjacent', but that didn't mean that when you found yourself in danger we wouldn't have come running to your side. It was your choice to exclude us. It was your choice to face…" He paused, briefly, as his eyes tracked to Willow's still body, and to Oz and Cordy's still and shocked faces, before coming back to Xander's, "what you did. _You _chose. We never stopped caring about you, you stopped caring about us.

"How do you think Buffy would have felt if you were killed? Or, since you say you care so much, Willow?" He paused again, and nodded soberly when Xander's eyes widened, "True, much of what has happened between us is my responsibility, but you are by no means blameless. You want us to stop treating you like a child?

"Then stop acting like one."

The room stayed silent as Giles walked away to stand near Willow and the rest of his kids, leaving Xander alone – outside.

**xXx**

After Giles had finished, Xander had needed to get away from the others, and had left the library to pace the corridors as he thought. Unfortunately, his thoughts mostly focussed on Giles' words, and how so many of them were true.

Even when Xander had had the epiphany about his poor showings in fights after dealing with O'Toole, he'd never stopped to consider how his attitudes had affected Buffy and the others, how his actions on patrol must have risked those around him. Hearing it laid out in plain terms by a man he respected was a hard truth to swallow. But swallow he did.

It was clear that a number of his assumptions had been wrong. Facts he thought were set in stone, were only hearsay and ephemeral ideas he had pieced together himself. He'd seen things the way he wanted to and, even though it had not been his intention, he had purposely painted the Scoobies in a negative light to let himself shine, at least in his own mind.

Giles was right. He had been a liability before, and their actions, though it hurt him to admit it, had not been as unreasonable as he had thought. Unpalatable as the prospect might be, he now had to find the courage to apologise.

It would kill him to lose the people he cared about because he couldn't admit he was wrong.

Decision reached, he turned to go back, only to startle at the figure unexpectedly standing behind him.

"Oz! What's the matter? Is Willow okay?"

The werewolf just stood looking at him, and Xander felt a chill sweep over him. For the first time, Xander was aware of the predator that lay coiled within the young man, and felt his own hackles rise.

"Xander. Why'd you lie?"

He blinked. "Lie? When did I lie?"

"You said you returned to find a man standing over her. A man who rescued her from the Mayor. Why'd you say that, when it wasn't true."

Swallowing convulsively, Xander pasted on a fake grin, "Of course it was true, what else could'a happened?"

Oz merely reached up and tapped the side of his nose. As Xander's brow furrowed, he elaborated, "I'm a werewolf. Enhanced senses. Including smell. I caught the scents of every person, human or otherwise that was near Willow tonight."

The grin had slid off Xander's face leaving him pale and drawn.

"I could smell Faith, I could smell vampires, I could smell a strange human with hints of snake, and I could smell you. No-one else. Why did you say that Walker rescued her, when we both know… it was you."

Oz stopped, nothing more needed saying, as Xander scrambled for an answer.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 11**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

First things first, I want to apologise about this chapter. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get it to work the way I wanted it to, and eventually I had to give up. I _know_ it doesn't work quite right, but I had to leave it as it ended. It's just the way things worked out.

I found myself having a great deal of trouble getting this chappie finished in time, and have come to an unpleasant realisation.

Due in part to my presently overworked life, the lack of sleep I'm getting, and the complete lack of free time I have at the moment… I'm afraid I'm going to have to start posting every two weeks instead.

I know this isn't something anyone wants, but I don't have a choice.

Sorry.

**Punster-Zero**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine.

**Author's Note :  
**That's right people, rumours to the contrary I'm not actually dead. I do still live, do still write, and will try to get the rest of this up before too long.

I _do _want to give an abject apology for taking so long to post a new chapter. The only excuse I can give is that my job got so soul-destroying that I found myself unable to write _anything_. And no, I don't count one-shots. Recently though, things have started to change and, god willing, I can start getting back to an even keel, and start writing and posting new chapters for not only this story, but all the others I'm working on.

So, check list. Abject apology, done. Explanation, done. Right, on with the story.

**xXx**

**Chapter 12**

**xXx**

Shaking, stunned, and afraid that his lack of forethought might have screwed him utterly, Xander could only gape soundlessly as he frantically wracked his brain for some excuse that the astute werewolf would believe. Alas, the sudden threat of exposure had blanked his mind, and he could almost see the resolve fill the other's eyes.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Though the tone was light, a shrewd glint in Oz's eyes told how focussed he was, "All this… it's just to hide the truth. Why you haven't been around, why you haven't been complaining about not helping. It's because you've teamed up with Walker, right?!"

As he'd spoken Xander had felt his heart drop lower and lower, but when they reached the conclusion, the world seemed to freeze as he stared open-mouthed at the triumphant werewolf. Did he just…?

Then it struck him. For all that he had changed, grown strong and trained hard, neither Oz nor any of the others were aware of that. As far as they were concerned, he was the same moderately useless person Giles had just finished describing, so Oz had leapt to the only obvious conclusion.

Xander wasn't Walker, but he _was _working for him.

That he could be so close, and yet so wrong boggled Xander's mind. And as a self-satisfied smirk flowed onto Oz's face, Xander realised that Oz was now _sure_ he was correct, based off his own reaction. Which meant…

Which meant, with a certain amount of prudent editing of the truth, Xander could get out of this without anyone being the wiser to his true other life.

"It.. it happened a few months ago." He made sure to make his voice light, tone withdrawn, to give the illusion of despair, "After Buffy pushed me away, he.. he came to me, told me that he knew of me, of what I'd been doing. Of how my _dear friends_ had treated me," he was unable to stop a hint of his bitterness from leaking through, "and how he felt that it was wrong. He offered me the chance to help. So I said yes."

"And tonight?" Though Oz still sounded suspicious, there was something about his eyes and the general tension of his body that made Xander think that he believed the tale.

"He heard that the Mayor was holding Willow, and offered to help me get her back. He went inside, while I stayed nearby giving cover if it was needed. He got her out, but let me bring her here."

"Then why can't I catch his scent?" A narrowing of the eyes told Xander he had to tread carefully, as there was a loose thread that the werewolf had caught.

For a moment, he floundered, then inspiration struck. "I told you, he'd been watching us for some time. He knew all about you, and knew he had to hide his scent from you, so got some magical mojo cooked up that would make him untraceable by animals. No offence, but he figured you might be able to track him back to his real identity, and he doesn't want that known."

Stopping, Xander waited with bated breath and prayed that Oz would believe him. Lies, but mixed with just enough truth to make it believable…

He flinched, couldn't help it, as Oz swung his arm up, but then breathed a sigh of relief at the offered hand. Bringing his eyes to the others, he let a tentative smile appear.

"I might not agree with your actions, and I think you should tell _them_," inclining his head back in the direction of the library, "but you saved Willow. You saved her life. I owe you for that. I'll keep quiet, for now at least."

Smiling openly, Xander took the proffered hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you. Truly. But as for telling them… do you really think they'd let me continue if they knew I was fighting? Do you really think they could accept it? In their eyes I'm useless. That'll never change… and I'm too tired to try."

Xander forced his mouth shut, irritated at the slightly self-pityingly tone the explanation had taken, and tried to bring the conversation to a close.

"Besides, this way I can help out when things go hairy… like tonight. There's just one thing though…" He trailed off, as a sudden thought hit him, and he looked at Oz with narrowed eyes as he considered if Oz would agree to it. "Neither myself nor Walker, since he would've told me if he was aware, knew about the Council's plans for the box. With me cut out of the loop, I have no way of knowing if bad things are going down, unless… unless someone…"

"You want me to spy on them."

Xander cautiously nodded, worried at Oz's possible response.

"If you'd asked me before, I would have said no and informed Giles at the first opportunity. Now…" Oz met his gaze, brow furrowed, "now… now I'll say yes. This doesn't mean I'm going to tell you everything," he cautioned Xander, who nodded vigorously in understanding, "I'll tell you if big bads come to town, but no more. I won't report on Buffy or Willow."

"That's all I ask." Xander hastened to say, "I don't want a traitor, I want a friend who'll let me know when the shit's coming down, that's all. I just… I just want to protect those I care about, however I can."

For the first time, the two young men looked at each other, and came to complete understanding. For the woman they loved, they would help each other. Then the moment was over, and Xander twitched his head back.

"So I think we've left them long enough, why don't we head back? Besides, I think your girlfriend might be awake by now, and you…"

He had to stop, blinking at the almost dust-trail that Oz's leaving caused. Grinning crookedly, he walked at a more sedate pace to the filled room, and as he did the words of his counterargument sprang to mind… and his already crooked grin grew increasingly feral. No matter that Giles was at least partially right… he was still in the wrong, and Xander needed to make sure that that was clear to the librarian.

**xXx**

Re-entering the room he was gratified to see that Willow was indeed awake, with an anxious Oz sitting next to her, clutching at her hand. Briefly he glanced over at Xander, before returning his focus to her. Though watching them together still created an ache within him, Xander knew they were good for each other. That in times like these, with what they did to keep the world safe on a daily basis, they all needed something to clutch at to lighten the darkness that tried to smother them.

For Willow it was Oz, and vice-versa.

For him… it was something else.

Dragging his eyes from the couple, he fixed his stare on the Watcher and the Slayer, engaged in a furious looking discussion off by themselves in one corner. Taking a deep breath he moved towards them. There were things needed to be said.

"Giles."

His name pulled the older man around, upon seeing Xander standing there his expression darkened, but Xander refused to let the man have the floor again, not before he'd said his piece.

"You said some things, and I needed a little time to process them. Now I have, and I have a response. You said it was my own fault, that the lack of training was my choice, that you had some small part, but mostly it was my own. I say to you what you said to me: bullshit."

He didn't raise his voice, he even smiled a little, but he could see Giles bristle at the implication.

"True, I could've asked, I could've shown interest in learning, that I didn't doesn't exactly make it my fault. I'm a teenager. I'm not _supposed_ to have interest in learning new things. But you… Giles, you're an educator. Your entire _job_ is to make recalcitrant and unwilling kids learn things. Everything you said, all those points you made, they weren't to point out my mistakes…

"They were to hide your own."

"How dare you!" The words came not from the man, surprisingly, but from the blonde at his back. "It was always you who got into the trouble during patrols, it was you I had to save more often than not! You can't blame others for your…"

"I'm not saying it's entirely his fault!" Xander cut her off harshly, "I _do _have a certain amount of blame on my own shoulders, but then so do you, and Willow, and Oz, and anyone else who fights. All I'm saying is that _he_," pointing at Giles accusingly, "has more than anyone else. I just refuse to let him shift all the blame onto me."

Enough was enough. They'd had this argument too many times, and while he knew he was right, it was just as clear that neither Giles nor Buffy would ever see that they were in the wrong, in any way at all. Casting his eyes away from them, he suddenly realised there was one less person in the room than when he'd left to rescue Willow.

"By the way, where's Cordy?"

And blinked, as both Watcher and Slayer flinched.

"What?"

"After those… _things_ you said," Buffy began, her tone poisonous, "and you left, she grabbed her things, looked at us, and told us to…" She paused, her face red in anger as she tried to force the words out. But it wasn't her who finished.

"She told us to 'go fuck ourselves'. She said she knew she was shallow, but even _she_ had standards on how she would treat people. And that how Buffy thought of her was wrong." All eyes had turned to the monotone of Oz, even as Willow's eyes widened at what she was hearing. "I think you've made a convert." The last was made as a snide aside, but only Xander saw the half-wink that Oz sent him, and realised what the man was hinting at.

Yet again, Xander was struck dumb as a new possibility raised its head.

Buffy's huff brought him back to the matter at hand, and he couldn't help but sigh at the mulish expression on her face. He was so caught up on her childishness though, he never noticed the slightly troubled look on Giles'.

Not wanting to deal with any of this shit anymore, he moved quickly to Willow's side and gave her a quick hug followed by a kiss to the forehead, just to show how worried he was. Though he had to fight to control his reaction to her presence, and prayed that the werewolf sitting beside her never noticed.

He then turned and walked away, leaving the room and heading back out, knowing he had to report in on all that had happened to Tank before things started to slip from his memory. Though he had to grin as Willow's plaintive voice could be heard wafting out the swinging doors.

"I know I was out of it for a while, but what the hell is going on?!"

It was sounding like he was having a bad influence on more than one person. With a melancholy grin, he walked out into the dark.

**xXx**

Sipping at his glass of water, he awaited Tank's verdict. He'd just finished going over all that had occurred that night. Not just everything that happened within the Mayor's office, but everything. The things that were said between himself and the Scoobies, both times, as well as the intel about the Mayor's forces and their new standing with the Watcher's Council. It had taken a while, and left his throat sore at the end, but he was done. He hoped.

"How close were your words to what Giles said to you?" Tank asked quietly.

In response Xander shrugged. "I did the best I could, but a lot happened tonight, and I might have been off with a few things. But the gist is right."

"In that case, I think… I think you were wrong to say what you did."

Xander gulped, worried. For Tank to say that, then he must have made a serious mistake somewhere.

"You were forgetting one very important point, something that was shadowing everything he did, everything he's ever done. Giles isn't just someone who helps out when the Scoobies fight, he's the one who has to send you all out into battle. That he's usually there right alongside those he ordered into danger is a mark for him… but the fact is, he's the one who has to make the hard decisions. He's the one who has to send out a teenaged girl to face possible death every night. That's not an easy thing to do, and for you to lambast him for his actions…"

Tank shook his head.

"He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, literally. He's the one who has to arm the Slayer with the knowledge she needs to defeat her opponents. He has to make sure she's as ready as possible to give her the edge she needs to win. That he can't give other people as much focus isn't his fault, it's the nature of things. That he can give you as much as he does tells me he cares for you all.

"Xander," He stared intensely at the stunned youngster, "you said the reason that Buffy allowed Cordy to stay was to act as bait. Why do you think _Giles_ allowed Cordy to stay? Do you really think he would be willing to sacrifice _anyone_, ever? He did it, despite the danger, because he knew that no matter Buffy's personal feelings, she would still do her best to save Cordy's life. All you've done is isolate Cordelia Chase from the group, which puts her in as much danger as you yourself were in."

Here Xander broke in, eager to make some kind of amends.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I think we should train her. Give her a grounding in weapons and fighting, and…"

"We?" Tank gave Xander a jaundiced eye. "I'm sorry Xander, as much as I'd like to help your girlfriend, I can't. there's too much happening just now to take on someone else. If you want to spend time teaching her, then be my guest. But don't look at me… and whatever you do, _don't tell her about Mac or myself_."

Xander flinched at the sudden intensity.

"Because of your actions she's in danger, and there's a pretty good chance she'll wind up dead or turned. If she knows about us, that puts us _all _in danger. Don't tell her. Ever."

He nodded shakily in answer. Not only did he understand the need for secrecy, he also caught the threat. If Cordelia _was _to ever discover the truth, then she would be… dealt with. It was a side to Tank, a practical and terrifying side, that he'd never known to exist, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Looking back at the larger man, he found himself being studied intensely. Blinking in surprise he leaned back in apprehension. He had a feeling that what was coming was even worse than what was already stated.

"Xander, I have a question for you. If Willow was in danger, if her life was at stake, and you knew you could save her, but it would allow the bad guys to win, what would you do? Would you save her? Would you let her die? _Could_ you let her die?"

Xander could only stare in horror.

"Wh… what are you saying?!"

"It's quite simple kid, could you sacrifice the girl you love if it meant you would save the world. Not in the heat of battle, but as a cold-blooded decision. No? That's why Giles is the leader and you're not. If it came down to it, he _could_ make that choice, even if it killed a part of his soul. It's the same for myself and Mac. We know how important this is, what we do. We understand our part in it all.

"And we know that if it became necessary, any one of us might be sacrificed. Including you. If it was needed, we'd leave you in a heartbeat."

He grinned humourlessly at Xander's suddenly white face.

"It's something you seem to have missed. This isn't a game. This is war. People die. Vampires, demons, monsters… hundreds, if not thousands of people die every day all over the world. There are far more of them than us, and sometimes a heavy price is required. Sometimes it's the blood of the innocent. Sometimes it's our own. What we're trying to do is turn the tide, hold back the darkness, using our own blood at times.

"I honestly thought you were already aware of this, otherwise I would've said it before. Everybody dies Xander, very few get to choose when or how. You and your friends are caught in a bad situation, and I can guarantee you will lose some, if not all. If you can't handle that…"

He sighed, letting his shrug say it all.

"I did."

The words were quiet, and Tank barely heard them.

"I did know, or thought I did. But seeing Willow lying there, with that vampire over her… I can't promise anything. I'm sorry, but where she's concerned, I can't. I can only promise to do my best. It's all I could ever offer. If that's not enough…"

A large hand clapping him on his shoulder brought his eyes back to Tank's, and found a gleam of pride. "Truthfully, if you'd answered any other way, I'd have kicked you to the kerb. I know exactly how much you care about that girl, and that you can even consider it… it gives me hope, for the future."

For a moment he smiled at the not-so-young-anymore man, then moved back to the planning table nearby.

"Now, getting back to the Ascension…"

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 12**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

Well, you'll be happy to know that I was able to write this in one sitting, more or less, meaning my _own _mojo seems to be getting back to normal, so here's hoping the next chapter will be finished and up soon. All I can really promise right now though, is that the wait will be nowhere as long as the wait for this one was.

Now as a point to any readers wondering about the constant changes of opinion, I never wanted to give the impression that Xander was entirely correct, or that Giles was, I simply wanted to make it clear that there was more to the truth than any one person could see.

The fact I got irritated messages about it tells me that it kinda worked, though it would've worked better if I posted this chapter sooner ^_^

Lastly, I know Oz is a little too verbose in this chapter, but I find him very hard to write. Try to write him yourselves, you'll quickly understand.

Anyway, I'll stop it there since I seem to be rambling slightly.

Ciao for now.

**Punster-Zero**


End file.
